Star Trek: The Sands of Time
by BeautifulDevil
Summary: Sequel to Shifting Sands. Tasha hasn't heard from or seen the Enterprise in months when Will Riker shows up on her doorstep asking for her help stopping a war and saving a dying colony. There's a catch: the planet causing the problems is her homeworld.
1. Chapter 1

_**STAR TREK: The Sands of Time**_

**Hello! Just a quick note before the story starts. This is my new Star Trek: TNG story and it's a sequel to my other story (also on here), Star Trek: Shifting Sands. I have to recommend reading "Shifting Sands" before this one as it provides a lot of the back story that comes into play in this sequel. That said, I really hope you're read 'Shifting Sands' and the come back and read 'Sands of Time' because this is the first sequel I have ever done. Enjoy!**

**Chapter One**

"NuqDaq ghaj SoH gagh?"

I shook my head, pointing at the display in the center of the table and hoping I was answering the question I thought I was. "Ghobe'," I told him. "That's it." The Klingon angrily slammed his fist on the tabletop and shouted something. I held my ground when I remembered what one of my coworkers had told me about Klingons and how they held honour and courage above everything else. Stepping back would be an act of cowardice. The last thing I needed was for them to by angry and to think I was a to'paH. Instead, I stood more firmly and opened my mouth to reply to the Klingon's demands.

"TIq qo' yImev mej jIH," the other Klingon asked his companions, drawing the attention off me for a minute. I was grateful. I had dealt with many different species in my three months of working here but none of that experience helped when face with two hungry, adult male Klingons who wanted something not on the menu.

Not very affective, I checked my wristband translator once more. It still wasn't working, just as it hadn't been all day. My translator device was never very effective, missing maybe one word in four and only able to translate the most common languages, but this morning it had shorted out completely. I'd been struggling along all day, trying to take orders from Andorians, Ferengi, Algolians, Bolians, Napeans, and many other races using only hand signals and single-word sentences. I'd been involved in a few heated arguments, mostly from the customer's side, and had been forced to call security when attacked by an angry, knife-wielding Nausicaan.

These were the first Klingons I had had to deal with, though.

"HIghos!" the first Klingon said loudly. I looked up, 'come here' being one of the Klingon phrases I did understand. I was already standing next to their table, so I supposed it could also mean 'pay attention' or something.

"Yes?" I asked. Maybe they had decided on something they wanted, something that _was_ on the menu.

"Your Federation food is too bland for us," he said, his voice mocking. "But we will settle for your Gladst and Chech'tluth. Can you handle _that_, pataQ?"

"HIja'," I told him, even though he obviously spoke English, better than I could speak Klingon.

I hit a button on my pad, promised the Klingons that their meals would be coming shortly, and hurriedly left the table. I had dealt with a lot of different species over the past three months I had worked here and many were just as easily-angered as these Klingons so I had quickly learned to deal with them and, hopefully, calm them down. It didn't always work, though, and sometimes the only option was to get away as fast as I could. The Nausicaan was proof of that.

Weaving around the multiple tables full of more species than I could count, I made my way back through the double doors leading to the kitchens. Once there, I hooked my pad up to the main computer and transferred the Klingons' orders. The cooks in the kitchen would access the information and I could pick it up in a few minutes.

"Translator still cagey?"

I disconnected the pad and turned around to face the Zaldan woman standing behind me. I moved out of her way so she could step through the door completely and out of sight of the tables. The walkway was narrow here, barely large enough for two people to stand comfortably without bumping into the computer or the outward-opening doors.

"Yeah," I sighed finally as the Zaldan woman hooked up her own identical pad into one of the multiple ports on the computer face. "I was just almost beat up by a pair of Klingons who wanted _gagh_ even though it wasn't on the menu." I pocketed the pad. "Yours isn't working either?"

The woman ran her fingers through her short, dark red hair, revealing webbing between her thumb and forefinger. "No. I got a pair of Vulcan scientists, so all I had to worry about was being polited to death. Lainsk is being cheap, though; we can't keep working if he won't pay for translators." She was blunt, saying exactly what she meant, as always. Kixa was years older than me, around fifty, but for her species she was still young and looked it, having a good 150 years left.

"I don't want to be the one to tell him that," I informed Kixa. It was universally known that Lainsk was cheap and even better known that he hated people complaining about it. If you couldn't do your job with what he gave you, he'd find someone who could. Most people learned pretty fast to not complain.

Kixa retrieved her pad a few seconds later and turned towards me again. "Let's go seat some ignorant imbeciles," she said cheerily. I followed her through the doors, holding back a laugh as we reentered the main room of the restaurant. Restaurant was perhaps a little generous as the place was really just an open area at the hub of the spaceport. It had been converted a good dozen years earlier to serve as an eating area complete with staggered tables and a gas-powered kitchen where they used to store broken plasma coils. Despite these additions, it still looked like the rest of the old space port: worn, dirty, and crowded.

Looking out across the room with a well-practiced eye, I noticed a group of Bolians seating themselves at one of the far tables. I gave them a few minutes to take their seats and then walked over to them. The tables were plain, fitting in well with the rest of the port and with thinly-padded chairs that suited them. They were made completely of worn metal except for the holographic menus that rose from the center of the tables, the only thing that gave any indication that we were in the 24th century instead of the 22nd. _They_, at least, were still working.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked the group of five.

"Oh, hello!" one of the Bolians, a man, said, sounding like I was a new addition to their party rather than their waitress. "You must hear Niggs' story!"

I noticed that the other Bolians were laughing uproariously, presumably at the story that had just been told. While I enjoyed a good story as much as anyone else, I didn't really have time at the moment. I'd also been cornered by Bolians in this way before. One story turned into five as fast as warp and could go on for hours.

I smiled at the five of them and politely shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I'm afraid I'm busy. We're really crowded at the moment. "Sometimes I wished that I, like Kixa, could just say whatever was on my mind without worrying about peasantries and politeness. I wasn't a Zaldan, though, but a Sandorian. Politeness was becoming as natural as talking to me and I couldn't imagine saying whatever was on my mind. I doubted the straight-forward tactic would go over well with the Klingons, in any case.

"Would you care for some drinks, though?" I asked instead. I leaned down and hit a button on the table, brining up the drink menu. "We have a large variety."

All five Bolians, three male and two female, leaned forward to examine the holographic projector as if they had never seen one before.

"The Vulcan Sparat looks interesting," one of them said.

"What about Klingon fire whiskey?"

"Oooh, Bajoran aulm juice sounds good!"

"You think?"

They continued on in this way for a while longer. I shifted impatiently from foot to foot, trying to resist saying something. I had served many groups of Bolians while working here, as one of their trade routes went through this sector, so I had long since discovered their tendency to have long, drawn out discussions out of the most inconsequential things. While it was something amusing, most of the time it just took up time I didn't have. It was also aggravating.

"Might I suggest the Betazoidian flavored water?" I cut in after five minutes. I had introduced the drink to the cooks a few weeks after I had started working here when I realized that there were no other non-alcoholic or non-incredibly spicy drinks on the menu. I didn't think Bolians needed alcohol.

They immediately latched on to the idea and ordered the waters. After stopping to get orders from a pair of Andorian engineers, I returned to the kitchen to input the orders. As I finished, I saw two other servers, a human and a Terellian, pushing carts laden with food. I smiled as they passed as I always did, and the human man nodded while the Terellian woman ignored me, as _they_ always did. I leaned against the computer as I waited for the orders to upload, thinking. I had only been on Karos VII for four months now, but it seemed much longer. I'd already fallen into the routines of the place, gotten used to the rush and business of the spaceport and the crowdedness of the settlement surrounding it. Karos VII had started out as a Federation colony but it had quickly deteriorated and, after attempting to declare themselves an independent planet, been abandoned by the Federation and labeled: failed. Now, Karos VII was largely self-sufficient, or at least autonomous from the Federation, and survived by trading with the many freighters and cargo ships that stopped to refuel or resupply. Lainsk had taken advantage of the bustling trade by opening a restaurant at the center of the spaceport and specializing in alien food.

As I returned my pad to my pocket, I heard cries form outside the double doors and the sounds of a table being flipped over. Apparently, someone else had grown frustrated with the failed translators and decided to resort to a more primitive form of communication. Sighing, I crept back out to the restaurant to reassure the more peaceful customers. It was going to be a long day.

"I think I'll just go straight home."

"Tasha, you never do anything fun," Kixa protested as we exited a service corridor out into the street. It was growing dark in the colony and the shops around us were closing up, preparing for the ten-hour night.

"I'll go out sometimes," I promised Kixa. "Right now I just want to go home and get some sleep." The day hadn't become any better after my encounter with the Bolians, especially after a group of Chalnoths had started a fight in the early afternoon. It had been broken up quickly enough, but one of our security guards had had to go to the medical bay for a long cut and a broken finger. All in all, I was glad the day was over, even though the next day would most likely be more of the same. Nothing much changed on Karos VII, each day exactly like the pervious in both climate and work, the ten-hour day following the ten-hour night over and over.

"Come to Zargell's tomorrow night," Kixa prompted me. "Charlie is off finally so we're going." Charlie was Kixa's sometime but not really human boyfriend who worked as a cargo loader in ship bay three. She rarely saw him because of conflicting work schedules, which contributed to their actual relationship problems. The other problem was that, as Kixa usually said whatever she wanted to without regards for niceties, Charlie found it hard to stick around for more than a few weeks in a row. Right now, though, they were apparently getting along.

"You're going to get old and alone."

Sometimes I found Kixa a little much to handle, too.

I promised Kixa I'd see her the next day and left her at an intersection. Kixa continued toward her inner-circle, second-story apartment while I turned and made my way to my third-circle tenant house. The original Karos VII colony had been divided into three concentric circles, growing steadily large as they went out, that separated the colony into areas of space docks and commerce, housing, and agriculture. Over the years, the lines had been blurred somewhat, with inner-circle stores turning into houses, second-circle apartments into shops, and the large, third-circle warehouses into cheap apartments.

After I parted with Kixa, I walked on for a few more minutes before finding a dark building to duck into. Night was approaching quickly now, the normally burnt red sky turning a deeper, blood tint. Standing in the doorway of a closed-up, darkened building, I watched a few people hurry past. When the street cleared, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to pull away from the world, shifting my form. A second later, I opened my eyes. My Sandorian form was gone. In my place sat a Karosian Desert Dove.

The bird was larger than a Terran Dove, its feathers longer and more ragged. A dusty red hue covered most of it, ending in white streaks on the wingtips and tail. At around five inches tall and nine long, the word was one of the larger native birds on the planet.

Stepping out of the shadows, I happened forward and spread my wings, beating them upward and lifting myself into flight. It only took a few wing beats to become accustomed to the absence of arms, instead tucking my legs up and stretching my neck forward. Coming up over the building, a few more wing beats brought me into one of the warm air currents coming in off the desert. Allowing it to carry me, I soared across the lights of the buildings below.

My nose wasn't as good as my Sandorian one, but I could still smell the desert in the air. The warm smell of sand mingled with the spicy scent of the Xiris trees that popped up in groves throughout the desert. The desert itself was endless, stretching out in all direction as far as the eye could see in innumerable dunes of burning sand. Whoever had dreamed of building a colony here had been mad, for it could never be self-sufficient. But it was beautiful.

Too soon, my flight ended and I alighted on the hard ground between two metal buildings. As I shifted back, a flock of Desert Doves fled up into the air, startled by my sudden appearance. The Dove was my favourite form here for a reason: there were hundreds of them around the city, feeding on what scraps they could find or given. They were native to the deserts but had long ago learned the advantages of civilization. No one gave them a second thought anymore.

The street in front of my living quarters was line with similar buildings, all of originally built to house food stores or equipment but most now converted into living spaces for workers in the inner circle. The inner circle was truly the heart of the city, where most of the work took place. Dozens of spacecraft arrived and departed daily, stopping to refuel or trade with the numerous merchants who set up shop here on Karos VII. All those merchants and docks need workers so every morning a flood of them entered the inner circle while every night they returned to their homes in the second or third. As I was doing.

Emerging onto the darkened street, I fell into step behind a group of humans and followed them into our building. Inside, a narrow hallway led straight through, branching off to provide access to first floor apartments. I took the stairs up to the second floor, where I lived. The stairs were a sturdy metal and continued up to the fourth floor. I left them at the second and walked straight into the heart of the building. Nondescript doors opened up on either side of me as I walked, with the occasional offshoot of the hallway to lessen the monotony. Finally, almost at the back of the building, I came to a stop in front of my door, gray and undecorated just like all the rest. Reaching into a few pockets, I eventually found my key and unlocked the door, pushing it open. There were no fancy automatic doors or turbolifts here, just manual ones and stairs.

Inside, I closed the door and relocked it, bolting it as well. There wasn't much crime on Karos VII, not in the third circle at least, where there was little to steal. What was worth stealing would be found at the ship docks, but there was no harm in being careful. It was habit.

I found the light panel by touch and pushed a button, illuminating the dark room with panels installed in the ceiling. After setting my key keys on the small table to my right, I made my way over to the sink along the right wall to wash up. Dust was everywhere in the city when the wind blew and was hard to avoid. When I flew in the warm air currents, as I usually did on my way to and from work, the dust was impossible to avoid.

My apartment was sparsely furnished but it did have a refrigeration unit and a cooker, both of which had come with the apartment. The couch had, too, and was bolted to the floor against the left wall. I'd acquired the table, coffee table, and two stools myself, either by trading or buying them. The table I had actually found in a discard pile, and I wasn't about to turn my nose up at it.

Just because I had a refrigerator didn't mean I had food in it, though. Opening a few drawers by touch, I pulled out a few nutrient packs and stood up. I needed to go shopping at the market in the inner-circle but I hadn't gotten around to it yet. Flying to work nearly everyday had become a habit and was so much easier than walking that I hadn't been willing to burden myself with groceries. I got paid the next day, though, so I could go shopping then. Nutrient packs weren't exactly my favourite food.

I placed the two packs into the cooker (where they would expand and reconstitute) and then went to the portion of my flat designated the bedroom. The bedroom was actually a part of the main room with no wall separating the two and held only a bed and a shelf for clothing and other knickknacks. There wasn't much in the rooms except for the furniture, no pictures or books. Four months wasn't long enough to collect the kind of things to make the apartment into a home, not for me, anyway. I was used to traveling light and taking nothing, not even clothes, with me. I was getting better, building up the kind of things most people had all along, but it was slow.

Letting my clothing disappear, I took some real clothes off the shelf and slid on a pair of pants and a shirt. I wasn't sure how I created clothing, didn't know how it worked. I did know that I wore my created clothing most days for at least a few minutes before I changed into my uniform at work. We had lockers at work, something I was grateful for, because it meant I could leave my clothes at work and fly in. Walking to the inner circle wouldn't take longer than forty-five minutes or so but I preferred flying.

Stretching out on the bed for a minute, I lay still until the cooker began to chime loudly, indicating that the nutrients packs were now reconstituted, edible if not exactly delicious. Collecting it and then sitting down at the small table, I took my time eating and then went straight to bed.

**Author's Note: This first chapter doesn't have any TNG characters in it, obviously. They are going to show up in Chapter 2, but for now I want to show what Tasha has been up to since she left the Enterprise. I really enjoyed writing about her in "Shifting Sands" so I want to giver her a chapter to come back into her own before bringing in the canon characters. **

**Oh, and if you liked this first chapter, please review it! Doesn't even have to be long or a critique, just whether or not you liked it. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

I awoke with a jerk, my body entangled in the blanket that covered my bed. Struggling free, I sat up against the wall and wiped sweat from my face. Disentangling my legs, I quickly slid my feet onto the floor. I sat for a minute, gripping the edge of the bed with tightened fingers, staring out into the blackness as I calmed my breathing.

After a few minutes, I relaxed and stood, pacing the door room a few time. Finally, I returned to bed, straightening the blanket before lying down. Even then, I couldn't sleep. I'd used to be plagued by nightmares, years ago, but they'd disappeared long ago, except for a brief period just six months ago. I'd thought I was free of them.

Morning came faster than I thought it would, so I must have fallen asleep again. Dawn was still a few hours off, but business on Karos VII started before the dawn. It had to on a world where the day last only ten hours. Most stores in the spaceport itself were open twenty hours a day, catering to the ships which came at all hours. Spacefarers didn't know what time it was on the planet below and most of the time they didn't care, just as long as someone was awake.

I leisurely ate a cold breakfast straight from the refrigeration unit and relaxed on the couch. I didn't have to be at work until 0700, which was about three hours away. I had second shift today, which meant I'd work from 0700-1400. I'd worked the same shift the day before but whoever scheduled us switched it up sometimes, mostly so everyone cold have come time off during the day. When daylight lasted only ten hours, and most species were used to longer days, it was coveted.

I didn't have a window to look out of, but the display next to the door informed me that it was almost 0500, almost dawn. Setting my dirty bowl in the sink, I dressed and left my apartment, locking the door behind me. The street outside was still dark but the eastern sky was turning from a deep crimson to a lighter red. There weren't many people in the street as first shift was in process and second didn't start for another two hours. It was their loss. Finding an empty spot between two warehouses, I stood watching for a few minutes as the sun started to rise over the sand dunes and stray buildings. Living in the outskirts of the third-circle was worth it on mornings like this one.

After a few more minutes, I turned my back to the sun and started into the heart of the city. The road was pavement but wind during the night had blown sand in from the desert, covering everything with a fine level of grit. Everything here was covered in the dust, from the streets to the buildings to our clothing, eventually. The dust was the hardest thing for me to adjust to when I'd first arrived here on Karos VII, more so than the shortened days and strange alien species. I was getting used to it, though, along with everything else. For ten years I'd moved constantly, adapting to new locations every few days. I knew how to adapt.

I made it into the inner circle in half an hour. By that time, the sun had risen and more people were out, leaving their quarters for the markets and stores. I followed the crowd to a line of shops on the street.

"Hey, Horatio," I told the man as he handed me a bag of real food, not the reconstituted rations I had been eating. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, Tasha," Horatio said. He patted my hand with his blue, webbed one. "I put in some of your favourite tea, too."

I shifted the bag to my hip and smiled at Horatio. He'd been one of the first people I'd met after I had landed on Karos VII, when I was still wandering around trying to find a place to live. Horatio had recommended the warehouse where I was currently staying and, from that point on, had consistently looked out for me. By selling me a delicious herbal tea, he'd earned by undying devotion.

"So what do you think?" I asked him. "Any chance of rain?" It rained on Karos VII maybe once or twice a month, when the winds came in from the planet's single ocean. The timing was sporadic but Horatio could always tell when the water was coming. His species came from a word of water, most living under it their entire lives.

Horatio shook his head, the blue fin drooping a little. "Not this week," he told me. "We need it, too; I'm drying out."

Why Horatio had come to a desert planet, I would never understand. He belonged underwater. In face, his real name wasn't even pronounceable on lad. He had selected 'Horatio' from a book he had read.

"Maybe next week," I offered before bidding him goodbye and turning back to the street. I made one ore stop before turning toward the main space dock. I still had fifteen minutes or so until my shift started.

The spaceport was laid out as a sprawling mass. It had originally been designed as a long line of docks coming out from a central hub, now the restaurant. Over the years, however, more rooms and bays had been added on so it now looked like a metallic shanty town. Multiple entrances stood along the sides of the structures. I entered through one of them.

There was no security at the spaceport. The owners of various ships and ship bays might hire men to guard their areas but the hallways and common spaces were every man for himself. It could be dangerous but anyone who works here understood the risks of traveling in the inner circle. If you wanted security, you shouldn't live on Karos VII.

I dropped bags off in the refrigeration units behind the kitchens and then dressed in the locker room. Tying my hair back, I emerged a few minutes later and came into the restaurant. It wasn't very crowded, one of the slow times. Slipping my pad into my pocket, I slid the translator onto my wrist and tried it out. It was working again, thank goodness. I hadn't looked forward to another day like the last but I would have tried it. Despite the occasional malfunctioning equipment and irate customer, I quite liked my job at Laink's restaurant. It was better than working as a cargo loader.

I slipped across the restaurant and clocked in on the main computer. I'd forgotten to do so a few times when I'd first arrived, not used to the practice, and hadn't received pay as a result. I hadn't forgotten since.

"Oh, good, you're early."

I turned to face Ray, the human server I'd nodded to the day before.

"Hey," I told him, a smile breaking out across my face. "What's up?"

"I'm just about to clock out bur your favourite Ferengi is asking for you. I wasn't sure if you were here."

"I'm here," I said, "unfortunately. Thanks, I'll go talk to him.

I passed Ray and returned to the restaurant. Scanning the room, I quickly found the bald head and prominent ears of the Ferengi. He looked up as I approached, then stood.

"Tasha!" he exclaimed, then seemed to contain himself. "I am delighted to see you again!"

"DaiMon Malakai," I said, nodding. "You can sit."

Malakai shook his head as if to do so would be to commit an atrocity. "I cannot sit while a treasure such as yourself is standing."

"I'm working, DaiMon," I pointed out. "I can't sit down."

The Ferengi remained standing. "Please, call me Malakai," he said. "A woman such as yourself should not worry about protocol, for you have no equals."

I resisted grinning at his theatrics. He was like this every time we met.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked abruptly, gesturing at the menu with my pad.

"I have all I could desire right here." Malakai reached out with his hands and I pulled mine back slightly.

"One Ferengi p'song," I said, tapping my pad a few times. "Do you want kelat again?"

The Ferengi lost his smile. "Why do you continue to resist me?" he asked. "You would live in the stars. I would treasure you more than one-hundred bricks of Latinum!"

From a Ferengi, the proclamation had to be touching. The species treasure Latinum above all else, which meant a lot because Ferengi were quite possibly the most greedy species in the universe.

Nevertheless, I shook my head and said, "No." Seeing Malakai's face fall, even though he had faced this same rejection at least a half-dozen times, I reached over and tapped him lightly on the ear. "I'm sure there are a lot of Ferengi women who would be happy to be with a DaiMon." I wasn't sure, actually. Ferengi confused me most of the time and I had no idea how they determined what was attractive.

"But you are unique," Malakai protested. I nodded. That was true, for the most part. I hadn't met anyone like me in the more than ten years since I'd left my home and I doubted anyone else had. As far as I knew, I was the only one who had escaped. With a start, I pulled myself out from my thoughts and returned to the preset.

"I'll be back with your food," I promised Malakai, then turned back to the kitchens. I glanced back at him as I stopped to check on a group of Andorians and saw him sitting down with a shake of my head, I continued on through the double doors. Malakai had been trying to woo me, if that was the right word for it, for around two months now and despite constant refusal had shown no sign of stopping. The fact that he was a Ferengi, though, meant he wasn't exactly threatening so it was nothing more than an annoyance. He also always left a few slips of Latinum as a tip.

After half an hour or so, business started to pick up and more customers came streaming in. I usually didn't receive many tips, regardless of how busy I was, but I still preferred being busy to standing around and doing nothing. It could get boring if the restaurant was empty. Today was anything but as a large ship of hungry Pygorians arrived. By 0900, the restaurant was packed.

"Tasha, there are some Napeans at your table," Kixa told me as I paused for a breath beside the computer.

"Alright," I answered, running my hand across my forehead. I retrieved my pad a minute later. "This is going to be a long shift." Kixa nodded in agreement.

By the time 1400 came around, I was exhausted. I had been right: the shift had been a difficult one. After the slow start, the restaurant had become packed and hadn't cleared out since. The past seven hours had seemed a lot longer than that.

In the locker room, I slipped out of the black and white uniform and back into my clothes. Again, I realized how much easier it was to wear normal clothing to work. Creating clothes took concentration and effort, plus it tended to wear me out after a while. Maybe I'd start walking to work more.

"There's a man out there looking for you."

I looked up as Kixa entered and came up to the metal cabinet we shared.

"Who is he?"

Kixa shrugged. "I've never seen him before." She set her translator and pad on the shelf and slipped out of her uniform as she continued talking. "He's human, though. Horrible beard. You wouldn't like him."

"He asked for me?" I prompted. Kixa sometimes got off on tangents and took forever to say what she had actually set out to.

"Yeah, by name. I told him you were off and to come back another time, but he said it was important and wanted to know where you lived."

I frowned. Karos VII, with its remote location and lax laws, attracted more than its fair share of criminals and other unsavory people but I had never had much of a problem with it, not being the most appealing victim to rob.

"I didn't tell him," Kixa assured me as she pulled on her regular shirt. "Creeper."

I realized I had stopped dressing as she spoke and still held my shoes. I crouched down and slid them on as I spoke. "I doubt he's danger. Probably someone I've served before looking for me." I really wasn't worried about it. I had a Ferengi who was in love with me, a Cardassian who had threatened my first-born son, and a Nausicaan who wanted to decorate his ship's bow with my intestines. I could handle a human, even if he did have a horrible beard.

I waited for Kixa to finish dressing and then took the back way out of the locker room so we could stop by the freezers. Bags in hand, we stepped out onto the street. Night was an hour off and the city center was still full. Kixa handed off the bag to me when we reached the intersection and I wished her a happy evening at Zargell's with Charlie, which I had begged off because I knew she wanted to spend time alone with him. As I continued on my own, more shops closed up the further I got into the second-circle.

By the time I made it to my building my arms were sore and I had remembered why I flew to work in the first place. Climbing up the two flights of stairs, I decided to take a flight after I dropped off my bags. It was nearly dark but bright enough to fly. I made it to the front door and settled one bag on the floor so I could draw out the key. It took a minute to figure out which pocket I'd put it in but I eventually discovered it and fitted it into the lock.

The door swung open before I could turn the key in the lock. I stepped back, noticing the lights were already on. I dropped the second bag, realizing that whoever was inside had to already know I was here. I could hear my shirt rip as I shifted into a larger form. I didn't need to hide. The Klingons that I now was could take on almost anything.

I stepped back and to the side so I was out of sight of the door, letting whoever was inside come to me. I wasn't going to walk into a trap. I held still as I waited for the person to appear. It took only a few minutes. As soon as a leg appeared, I grabbed the figure and, spinning around, slammed up against the opposite wall. A fist slammed me in the face, disorientating me but I still managed to seize the arms and pin them against the wall. Somewhat secure, I looked down to see who I had prisoner.

I stepped back, releasing my grip on my prey and retreating. Backing up to the opposite wall, I stared at the man standing in my hallway rubbing his wrists and readjusting his balance as if preparing for fight or flight.

The man froze, looking at me. "Tasha?"

I looked down at myself, realizing I was a Klingon. Then I shifted, letting myself shrink down to my normal 5'4" size and yellow-blond hair, dressed in clothes I'd created. I looked up at the man, the angle a contrast to a minute ago. He stared back, looking caught entirely off guard.

"What…?" I started, then stopped, looking at the spilled bags and then up again. He had stepped away from the wall, making the small space seem smaller. He was wearing civilian clothes in dark red and brown, no Starfleet insignias present. He was actually blending in with the locals.

"Hey," Will Riker said.

"Hi." I frowned, brows creasing in utter astonishment, and then let out a laugh. Smiling and shaking my head, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you," he answered. I opened my mouth to ask another question but stopped. Instead, I turned toward the door.

"You wanna come in?"

"Sure."

Will helped me gather the food in silence and I led the way into the flat, closing the door behind us. After the bags were settled on the table, I turned to Will again, still grinning.

"I don't even care," I told him before pulling him in for a hug. I hadn't grown any since the last time we'd met, although I easily could have, so I still felt short compared to him. I let Riker go a few seconds later.

"Sit down," I told him, pointing to the couch. I almost followed suit when I noticed my ragged clothing. "Just a second."

I grabbed a change of clothes off the shelf and hurried into the bathroom to change. I emerged a few minutes later to find Will sitting comfortably on my couch. I sat down beside him.

"So, uh, how are you?" I laughed.

"I'm fine," Riker said, sounding like he meant it. "Been busy, the Enterprise is a good ship."

"You're still on the Enterprise," I commented, relieved for some reason. "He was right, the Enterprise was a good ship, but I had thought Will might have moved on in the time since I'd seen him.

"Yeah. I was offered a command but…" he shrugged. I nodded to show I understood. The Enterprise was home, not matter what other command he might be offered. "But how are you? Karos VII is a long way from Risa."

I snorted. It certainly was. "I got bored with Risa," I explained to him. "I couldn't live at a tourist destination, it didn't even feel like a real planet. So I heard about this colony from a pilot and got a ride here." When Will raised his eyebrows, I frowned at him. "I paid for it," I told him. "Don't worry, no more sneaking around. The Pilot was really nice actually. So I found a job here and have been here for about four months."

There really wasn't much to tell. I had stayed on Rise for a little over a month and then, bored with the planet once more, got a two week ride on a cargo ship that eventually took me here. I couldn't say that Karos VII was as luxurious as Risa, but I liked it better.

"It's a dangerous place to live," Will said, looking serious for the first time. "Even for you."

I could have disagreed, but I knew he could be right. "There's no crime in the third-circle," I told him. "Anyway, you're the first person who's broken into my quarters since I moved here."

Will looked sheepish, if that was possible.

"I tried to find you at the restaurant but I heard you were gone."

"Yeah, Kixa told me. She said you looked like a creeper." I neglected to say that she had called his beard 'horrible' as I doubted he would appreciate that. "So what are you doing here?" I asked. I laughed while I asked the question but I was burning with curiosity. He wouldn't have come here to see me. The Enterprise's First Officer did not get time off to do things like that. I couldn't imagine what could be happening on Karos VII that would be worthy of note.

"I told you, I came to see you."

"You came all this way to pop in for a visit?" I asked him.

Riker frowned and I saw his eyes cloud. "Not exactly," he admitted. He stood up and paced to the far side of the room, which didn't take long. When he turned back, he was opening his mouth to speak when I heard the chime of a communicator. He reached up to his chest but, realizing it wasn't there, reaching into his pocket and drew out the familiar silver emblem of Starfleet.

"Riker here," Will said.

"Number One, report?"

I recognized the voice of Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Enterprise. I realized with a start that this must mean the Enterprise was here if her two senior officers were.

"I found her, Captain," Will reported. "I'm talking to her now."

I stood up from the couch and stepped around the coffee table.

"We've been ordered to report to the planet by the day after tomorrow," Picard said. "With or without her."

"Understood, sir," Will said. "Riker out."

Riker turned away from the wall he had been gazing at and toward me. I was still standing in the middle of the small room, watching him. He smiled half-heartedly, sad and a little wary.

"Not a visit, then," I said.

"No, not really." Riker pulled a seat out and then sat in the other, swinging his legs over it and resting his hands on the back. "I am glad to see you, though."

I took a seat, turning my chair around backward as he had. "So, why did you want to find me?" I asked him.

"We need your help."

"You need my help?" I repeated questioningly.

Will nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to involve you but…we've tried everything else. We need _you_."

"Why me?" I asked. I didn't think I was anything special. The incident with the Romulans had been a fluke, a last ditch attempt to save the ship. I doubted I could be any use to them now.

"You're Sandorian," Will told me.

I shrugged. "So I can shapeshift. How does that help you? You have the Enterprise."

"No, it's because you're Sandorian," Riker clarified. "One of the only ones we know, and definitely the only one we're on friendly terms with. We need you to be our ambassador. The planet we're going to is Sandor."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Four**_

I jerked back without conscious thought, recoiling up out of the chair and backing up against the table. When I bumped into it, I gripped the cold metal tightly, feeling the edges bite into my fingers. I could feel my heart beat faster at the mention of the name, a throw-back to a time when fear could be overcome by as simple an act as running.

"Tasha," Will was standing also. "I know you don't want to go back. Please, just hear me out."

Knowing that my fear was irrational didn't make it go away. Feeling frightened and feeling foolish for feeling that way, I turned the chair back to its correct position and sat down.

"You okay?" Will asked as I sat.

"Yes. But I'm not going back to Sandor, Will."

Will sighed, running his hand over his face and then clenching his hair. "Just let me tell you why I'm here," he said. "And then you can decide what you want to do." I nodded in agreement. Of course I'd hear him out; he had come all this way for help, after all. And I could handle just _hearing _about Sandor.

"There's a wormhole a few light-years from Sandor," Riker began. "It's other end is nearly 500 lights years away. We've been using it to transport food and medical supplies to a Federation colony on Minos III because it's in a planetwide drought." He paused and I nodded again for him to continue. I'd heard of the Sandorian wormhole several times but I'd never known where it led. It had not seemed important.

"Two weeks ago, Sandor blockaded the wormhole and declared it their property. They're not letting anyone through either side without paying tribute, and they want weapons from the Federation."

"That sounds like Sandor," I interrupted. I'd grown up with an idyllic view of my homeworld but that vision had long ago been destroyed.

"Well, every since the blockade started, Minos III has been on its own. We haven't received any transmissions but they didn't have many supplies left when the cargo ship was supposed to have arrived. They're going to run out soon."

"Haven't you tried to reason with them?" I asked.

Will nodded. "We offered other forms of tribute and offered to negotiate but they seem to only want technology. We don't have formal relations with their government so we can't even talk. They refuse to allow any humanitarian ships through."

I leaned back in my chair as Riker finished, raising my fingers to my forehead and rubbing it. I had never tried negotiating with the Sandorian government before but I could picture them being as stubborn and cruel as Will had described. In my experience, Sandorians were a close-minded and selfish race, interested only in what involved themselves and deaf and blind to the troubles of others.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Talk to them," was Will's immediate reply. "Try to reason with them. You grew up there; you know them better than anyone else we have. They might listen to you."

I shook my head. "They won't listen to me. They wouldn't even meet with me. They hate shape-shifters, remember?"

"I know, but nothing else has worked. They wouldn't have to know that you're a shape-shifter. If we can't get them to negotiate, we'll have to force them back. Please, Tasha, won't you give it a shot?"

"Will, it wouldn't work. And I'm not going back there." I shook my head. "Not ever."

"Riker sighed. "Thousands of people cou—" he started.

"Damnit, Will!" I yelled at him. I stood up, knocking the chair back. "Don't you remember why I started running in the first place? Didn't I tell you what they did? They locked me up, my own people! Acted like I was some kind of freak. I got away from there and I'm not going back, not if I have any choice about it!" I turned away from Will, needing a minute to get my emotions back under control. Leaning against the wall, I banged on the metal door frame with my fist.

I heard Will get up and watched from the quarter of my eye as he leaned up against the door beside me.

"I can't go back to Sandor," I said, realizing my voice sounded pitiful. "I can't face any of them, much less negotiate with them." I turned until my back was flat against the steel door and I felt the warmth of Riker's arm pressed against my left arm. We stood in silence for a few minutes.

"If we attack Sandor," he began, "they'll fight back. They have allies and that sector is already unstable. We could start a war."

I drew in air quickly. There hadn't been a full-scale interstellar war for decades, centuries. If Will had come to me for help, then the situation had to be dire. And there was the possibility that I could help.

"I didn't want to ask you but there's nothing else left to try. If it were up to me, I'd torpedo the blockade out of the sky but…" he faded into silence.

I closed my eyes. "You know, I did kind of want to visit the Enterprise again," I said, glancing over at him. "I guess this is what I get."

"I meant to find you earlier."

I ran a hand slowly through my hair, pulling out some tangles. "I'll help you, Will." I said. "I don't know if I can but I'll try."

"Hey!" I shouted down the hallway, jogging down it. "Uh, Natalie, right?" I came to a stop in from of the middle-aged human. She gazed at me questioningly and with a bit of suspicion.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Tasha, I live up the hall." I gestured behind me and she nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm leaving for a few days and I'm in a hurry. Could you give my key to Aaron?"

She nodded again and took the key from my outstretched hand. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

I shook my head, not wanting to explain. "If I'm not back in two weeks or so, you're welcome to my stuff," I added. It may have been fatalistic of me, but I wasn't' sure if I was coming back. A lot of things could change in two weeks.

I hurried off down the hallway, leaving the woman looking rather stunned and still standing behind me. Will was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

"We just need to stop at Horatio's and then restaurant and I'll be ready," I told him as we descended. I paused as we made it to the street. "It'll be faster if I go alone," I said. "I can fly over and back in a quarter hour."

Riker considered it with the care of a First Officer considering a vital decision and then nodded. "Alright, be careful."

I hurried into an alley and then undressed, taking the time to fold my clothes up neatly. It was the only pair I was taking with me so I planned on taking care of them. As soon as I finished, I shifted into my Dove.

It only took a few minutes to rise to the rooftops and then I was off, soaring in the currents. Soon, I was joined by other doves, all flying in synchronization. It didn't take long for me to locate Horatio's shop and, when I did, I detached from the group and landed on the ground in a deserted street. I quickly shifted and then rounded the corner.

The stand was relatively empty as it was now dark and I made it to the counter immediately.

"Hello!" Horatio exclaimed as he popped up from behind the counter. "Back so soon?"

I nodded. "I just came by for a second." I drew a breath. "I'm leaving and I'll probably be back in a little over a week, but I'm not sure."

Horatio's fins drooped and then rose straight up. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, I'm fine." I didn't tell him I was going back to my home planet to negotiate for access to a wormhole in order to prevent an interstellar war. I didn't know if he'd actually believe me. "I'm leaving with some friends and I'm not sure when I'm coming back. I jus wanted to say by."

"Do you need me to do anything?" Horatio asked.

"Just keep an eye out for rain," I told him. "See ya around."

"Goodbye. Warm waters."

I turned back to street. My next stop was the restaurant. Lainsk wasn't there so I left a message with one of my coworkers. It didn't really matter because Lainsk would probably fire me anyway. He could always find new workers and had no reason to keep my job open. I hoped Will knew what I was doing for him.

I didn't know where Kixa lived and I didn't have time to find out. She was probably still with Charlie, anyway. She'd hear what happened when she went in for work.

I made it back to the alley within the promised fifteen minutes. I emerged from the small space to find Riker leaning up against the side of the building, waiting.

"I'm ready," I told him coming out of the shadows.

He nodded. "Can you come back?" he asked.

"Not to this job."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know. Let's go."

Riker nodded and tapped his communicator, now fastened to his shirt. "Riker to Enterprise," he said.

"Enterprise here."

"Two to beam up."

"Locked on, Commander."

"Energize."

Once again, I experienced the disorientating sensation of my surroundings disappearing and then reappearing somewhere entirely different. I stared around the transporter room, thinking it felt like years since I ha been here. Nothing had changed, of course, except for man standing behind the controls.

Will hopped down off the pad and I followed suit, following him out the door and into the hallway. I was immediately surrounded by the sleek lines and brown carpeting that reminded me so much of my previous journeys down hallways like this one.

"I've assigned you the same quarters you had last time," Will told me as we walked. "We can get cleaned up and then Captain Picard wants to see you."

I was thankful for the immediate meeting with Picard. I wanted to find out more about this mission I had agreed to. There was no going back now but I should know what I had gotten myself into.

Will stepped into the turbolift and I followed, automatically saying "Deck 8" as soon as I had entered. I glanced over to see Will smiling at me. "What?"

"It's good to have you back."

A small smiled crossed my lips. "Yeah," I agreed and as Riker showed me to my new, or old, quarters, I had to believe it. The Enterprise wasn't home, not like it was for Will, but I liked it here.

Back in my quarters, I gazed out the window for a minute and then turned to the bedroom mirror. It was true, I needed to clean up. I couldn't keep clean on Karos VII, no one could as dust was everywhere. Clean clothes and warm showers on the Enterprise would hopefully help that.

I didn't want to take much time so I washed up and replicated clean clothes. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I ran fingers through my hair. It'd been growing some over the past six months and I'd let it go, not bothering to hurry it up or shift it shorter. Now, though, I was soon to be a long way from Karos VII. I shrugged, made my hair short and lime green, and exited my quarters. Wills were just to the left and he came to the door as soon as I hit the bell. As soon as the door opened, he stared at me.

"You ready?" I asked him. I noticed he was back in his red and black uniform, straight and unwrinkled, with black shoes shined and communicator fastened on.

"Yes. Why the hair?"

I stepped aside to let him out and we started toward the turbolift. "You mean, why didn't I make myself taller?" I waved my hand. "New quarter, new hair. Might as well change it all at once."

I stepped into the turbolift and we rode to the bridge in silence. When the doors opened, I looked out on the Enterprise's Bridge. I had only seen it once before and I hadn't been in much of a position to admire it. I did so now as I stepped out of the turbolift. Someone I didn't know was standing at Tactical, which wasn't surprising as I knew maybe five members of the crew. As I followed Riker down toward a door on the left, I recognized Commander Data sitting in the Captain's chair. He stood up when he saw Will but was waved back down as we passed through the door.

We came into the small room off the Bridge, more comfortable-looking than the austere bridge and conference room had been. I noted there was a couch to the right and a table bearing knickknacks, but my main attention was drawn to the desk straight ahead, where the Captain of the Enterprise was sitting. When we entered, he looked up from the screen he was viewing and then stood.

"Welcome back, Miss Lawrence," he said, tugging down his shirt hem. "Thank you, Number One." Will nodded and left, while Picard gestured for me to sit. I took a seat, crossing my legs in front of me. As I situated myself, my trepidation rose. I had relaxed a little earlier, but I still had the hollow pang of pear inside me. It grew now.

"I must apologize for bringing you into this, Miss Lawrence," Picard started off. "You have no obligation to us."

"It's fine," I told him. "I want to help."

"Hmmm." Picard leaned back in his chair thoughtfully and then said, "The current situation is getting worse. Thank you for agreeing to come so quickly. Hopefully we can work out a compromise soon."

I agreed, although I was less hopeful than him. "I haven't been told much about the situation." I only knew what Riker had told me, which really wasn't much. Not nearly enough if they expected me to negotiate for me. I still found the very idea preposterous.

"Of course. I'll have the full history sent to your quarters but I can brief you on the basics.

"The Sandorian wormhole was used by the Federation to colonize a planet five-hundred light-years away, Minos III. Minos III was thriving until six months ago when a Class 3 comet struck the southern hemisphere of the planet and destroyed the ecosphere. The colony survived and opted to remain on Minos III, but they require constant supply ships until they complete the terraforming process."

"Why didn't they just move the colony?" I asked, thinking that would be an easier option.

"A valid question. The colonists had claimed Minos III as their home and refused to abandon it. And the process went smoothly until just over two weeks ago when a fleet of Sandorian vessels surrounded the wormhole and claimed it as their own. They've been demanding tribute from alls hips passing through it."

I raised an eyebrow. When I left Sandor, it was still relatively primitive in regard to space travel. They had accomplished achieving warp speed, but still limited their exploration to our own solar system. Ship production was low and weapons systems were limited to weak phasers. Apparently, they had decided to up their conquests.

"Is anyone paying?" I asked Picard.

He nodded. "In the past two weeks, four different species have paid, mainly so as to avoid conflict. The Sandorian government is demanding weapons technology from the Federation, which we cannot supply."

"So you've tried negotiation and that didn't work," I finished. "Would the Federation really attack Sandor?" I had no problem with the Federation shuffling aside a few Sandorian ships but it seemed out of character. The Federation protected their own but I had seldom heard of them mounting an outright attack.

Picard raised his eyebrows. "If necessary," was his curt reply. "Sandor has no official claim to the wormhole as it is not within their solar system and they have breached interstellar law by refusing to allow humanitarian aide or even a rescue mission to be conducted. All of our attempts to negotiate have failed. We were sent terms by way of a subspace signal with instructions to deliver the tribute. We've attempted to reply over the same channel but have been ignored and all hails to their government have been blocked or ignored, as well. Minos III can survive perhaps another week or two but then they will begin to starve.

"If we cannot negotiate, we must resort to force. Sandor is not powerful but they have many allies who would come to their defense. If we go through the wormhole, we could start a war."

I looked at the Enterprise's Captain, struck by the enormity of the situation. Picard was widely-respected as a good negotiator, even I had heard of him while on Karos VII, but he could find no way to defuse the current situation. The fact that they had come to me for help showed just how desperate they really where.

"What makes you think I can help?" I asked bluntly, hoping Picard could explain my intended role better than Riker.

"We're hoping you can establish contact. We know some of our hails are being received so they may respond to you. If not, you may have more luck finding governmental executives to contact." Picard leaned forward. "I realize this may seem futile, but we have exhausted all other avenues."

I nodded to him. "I'll do everything I can," I promised. "I don't have any experiences negotiating, though."

"Once you've established contact, we will conduct the negotiations. All you have to do is get them to agree to the meeting, which will require more instinct than skill."

I nodded again. "You should know that I haven't been on Sandor in over ten years, Captain. Just because I'm from the same species doesn't mean they'll listen to me."

"Just do your best," Picard said. He stood and tugged on his shirt once again. "There'll be briefing tomorrow about the mission. In the meantime, do you want an escort?"

"No, thanks." The last thing I wanted was to be followed around by some yellow-shirted security guard.

Picard nodded. "You're welcome to wander the ship, then, but please stay away from the restricted areas."

"Of course."

I turned toward the door, dismissed, but Picard's voice called me back. "Oh, Miss Lawrence." I turned to see the Captain smiling. "I love the hair."

I smiled back at him, nodded, and then left his ready room. Back on the Bridge, I found Will in the captain's chair and Data at the Ops station. Captain Picard remained behind, no doubt to continue strategizing. I, for one, had no desire to continue thinking about our upcoming encounter. I was growing tired, for although it was just after 1600, it was already growing late on Karos VII.

Will stood when he saw me but I shook my head, instead going over to the turbolift. I didn't need him to escort me to my quarters and he probably had more important duties to perform. I, on the other hand, had nothing to do except to think.

Alone again in my quarters, I took the time to shower and replicate several pairs of clothes. After I'd finished and changed, I realized that, in the busyness of the past few hours, I had neglected to eat dinner. This, too, proved a welcome distraction as the replicator gave me endless choices in place of the normal boring meals I usually had.

The computer informed me it was 1705 when I lay down in the bed. Clean and full, I no longer had anything to distract me from the plane we were now hurtling toward. The stars streaking past the windows of the main room told me we were flying at warp, already on our way to Sandor. Even thinking the name upset me, for so many more reasons than I could name. I hadn't thought of the place in six months, had been able to entirely move on, and now I was going back. I wasn't frightened, exactly, not of being caged as I had been before. There were not any cages on Sandor that could hold me now, for their institutions had been walled in by brainwashing just as much as real walls. And I certainly wasn't afraid of anyone on the planet.

No, I was more afraid of myself than I was of Sandor. More afraid of how I would react when faced with my homeworld once again. I'd spent years recovering, running, and trying to forget and I had thought I'd managed to free myself from the past but now I wasn't so sure. Sandor still held too many memories.

**Author's Note: So we're actually getting into the actual story now, so I hope you're enjoying it! Hopefully I'll get more chapters up soon. Review if you have time, and have a great day!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

**Another long chapter. I know I haven't updated this story in a while but I've been ****_crazy _busy with school. Six tests this week alone. Hope you enjoy this, though! Keep reading and reviewing! Reviews are good!**

I woke hours later, disorientated by the strange bed and room. Sitting up, I almost got up and reached for the light panel before I remembered where I was and said, "Computer, turn on the lights." The lights in the bedroom immediately rose and I blinked away the dark spots in my eyes. Rubbing them, I muttered, "What times is it?"

"2035."

It was just after midnight on Karos VII and I felt it. It was just evening here, though, and I knew that if I continued to sleep, I'd wake up far too early. No doubt there would be more discussions about Sandor tomorrow and I wanted to research more on my own time. Being exhausted wouldn't help me.

I was sure there was a lot to do on a ship this size but I didn't feel like investigating or exploring. Instead, I slipped on my shoes and straightened my clothing. On my way to the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. Green was really not my color, although I doubted it was anyone's. Instead, I grew the hair a bit and made it a dark reddish. A bit better.

I left the quarters and entered the turbolift, knowing I could fall back to sleep if I stayed. "Ten Forward," I ordered the computer. The car began to move and a few seconds later the doors opened. I recognized the doors to Ten Forward across the hall. The lounge wasn't crowded, just a few groups of crewmen spread throughout the room. I walked over to the great windows, watching the stars streaking past. We were far from Karos VII. I stepped closer to the window, mesmerized by the flashing stars.

"Do you desire company?" a precise, clipped voice questioned. I turned and found Lieutenant Commander Data standing to my right, studying me with his pale-yellow eyes.

"Sure," I answered him, gesturing for him to join me in my vigil. Data nodded once and stepped forward, arms held stiffly at his sides. "I wouldn't mind it."

"I have noticed," he began, "that when someone stands alone, it means something is bothering them. Do you think this a correct assessment?"

I paused for a moment and then nodded, turning away from the windows to look at him. "I suppose so. Sometimes people want to be alone if they're upset or want to think things over. Sometimes they just need time to themselves.

"Ah, I see. You wish for me to leave, then?"

"No, no, you're fine," I said hurriedly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, although I'd heard he had none, and also simply not wanting to be alone. "We can sit down, if you like," I added. I took a seat in on one the plump chairs facing the windows and Data did the same, looking out of place in the comfortable seat.

"Are you unhappy to be back on the Enterprise?" Data asked. I raised my eyebrows surprised at the question.

"No, not at all. I like it here. I'm just nervous about going back to Sandor."

As I spoke, a man in civilian clothes came up and, when I finished, asked me if I wanted anything. After I'd asked for drink, I turned back to Data.

"It is your home planet, is it not?" Data asked.

"Yeah, I haven't been there in over ten years, though."

Data tilted his head to the side reminding me that he was an android. "Do you not desire to return there?" he asked. "Most species seem to have a special fondness for the planet of their birth."

"Well," I started, not sure how to explain. "Well, where are _you_ from?"

"I was constructed on the planet Omicron Theta," he told me.

"So it's your home?"

"I have few memories of the colony. Soon after I was activated, I joined Starfleet. In a way, the Enterprise is my home."

"Do you have any desire to go back to Omicron Theta?" I continued to question, beginning to wonder if this was the best way to make a point.

"I have no emotions regarding it either way," Data told me. "It is simply a planet."

I nodded. "See, that's how I feel about Sandor. It's not my home, I was just raised there. I don't want to go back."

Data nodded again. "I believe I understand," he said, sounding as if I had just imparted the great secret of the universe to him. "You view Karos VII as your home?"

I blinked, not expecting the question. "Well, I suppose…" I fell silent. I had friends on Karos VII, along with an apartment and a job. At least, I used to have them, I wasn't so sure anymore. Even when I'd lived there, it hadn't felt like much of a home. "No, Karos VII's not my home. I probably don't even have a job there, or my flat." I raised my eyebrows. "I don't know if I'll even to back when we're finished here."

"I am certain Captain Picard will grant you asylum on the Enterprise if you express a desire for it."

I stared at Data but was distracted when the server returned with my glass. I took a sip of the dark liquid and the set it down.

"You think?" I asked.

"I believe so," Data responded. "The Captain has granted asylum to individuals before."

I paused, taking this in. I had considered this possibility before, when I had left the Enterprise six months ago. Captain Picard had said I could stay for as long as I wanted. The same thing had stopped me then as it did now: I didn't belong here. I had no purpose. I'd come full circle.

"Far as they could go, end of the line," I muttered.

"Sunset Boulevard," Data said immediately. "Written by Andrew Lloyd Weber, late 20th century. You enjoy musicals?"

I nodded, caught off guard by his recitals of the information. "Yeah, I've been listening to Earth show tunes. You've heard of it?"

"I have been studying 20th and 21st century human musicals, particularly those produced by Broadway. In fact, I am working on a musical of my own. Perhaps you would like—" He was cut off by the buzz of his communicator.

"LaForge to Data."

"Data here."

"Hey, Data, could you come down to Engineering and help me with those deuterium manifolds in the third injectors? They're acting up again."

"Of course, Geordi. I am on my way."

Data stood stiffly and turned to me. "I apologize but I am needed in engineering."

"It's fine," I assured him. "Thanks for your company. And I'd love to hear about your musical sometimes."

"I look forward to it." Data sounded eager, despite his professed lack of emotions.

I continued to sit for a few minutes after Data left and then rose, setting my empty glass on the counter on the way out. I wasn't sure what time it was but it felt late. I couldn't reset my internal clock that fast.

I started toward the turbolift, wondering about what Data had proposed. Perhaps the Captain would grant me asylum here on the Enterprise. Not permanently, of course, but just for awhile. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I passed the turbolift. I came to a stop when I saw a turn up ahead that I didn't recognize. Turning back around, I tried to retrace my steps. It didn't work.

I had never appreciated just how easy it was to get lost on the Enterprise, especially when I wasn't paying attention. Within a few minutes, I wasn't even certain which direction Ten-Forward lay in.

"Computer, where's the turbolift?" I asked finally, frustrated. When no answer was forthcoming, I ground my teeth angrily.

"If you don't have a communicator, you have to put your hand like this."

I turned to see a young, gray-clad man step up beside me and place his hand against the black side of the corridor. Immediately, it lit up.

"Computer, give directions to the nearest turbolift," the boy ordered confidently. The computer produced lighted arrows pointing to the right.

"Proceed twenty meters and enter seventh door on left," the computer's metallic voice answered.

The young man removed his hand from the display and grinned at me. "See?" he said. "It's easy."

"Thanks," I told him, feeling embarrassed. "I should really know how to do this."

"It's no problem," he said, really sounding as if it wasn't. "Did you just come aboard?"

I gestured forward with my arm and we started toward the turbolift. "On Karos VII," I answered him, still trying to place him. He definitely looked familiar.

"You're Tasha Lawrence?" he asked suddenly. I nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Wesley Crusher."

I bit back an 'aha!' "You're Beverly's son," I said, finally seeing the resemblance. "It's nice to meet you." I continued to count the doors as we walked. Four…five.

"It's nice to meet you. I was gone last time you were here but I've been hearing a lot about you."

I thought back. Dr. Crusher had mentioned something about her son being away on some space filed trip but I had never heard any details.

"Are you really a shapeshifter?" Wesley asked.

I stopped in front of the seventh door and lead the way into the turbolift. "Deck 8, Section 32," I commanded. "Yes, I am," I finally answered him when we were on our way. "Not many Sandorians are, but there's a few of us."

A thoughtful look came over Wesley's face. I wonder if it's a genetic phenomenon or an environmental one," he said. "Does shifting involve molecular readjustment of the Skasis apparatus?"

Having never heard of the 'Skasis apparatus,' I shrugged. "Your mom said that my molecules are in a state of constant flux, which allows me to take on the shape of any living organism. The molecules also give of a faint radiation," I added, "which makes me undetectable to internal sensors."

Wesley's eyes widened. "If you could get on board a ship, you could just keep shifting and be virtually impossible to detect." His voice got higher as he grew more excited. "If we could determine what about the flux gives off the radiation, we might be able to reproduce it and use it on hostile away missions!"

I raised an eyebrow at the idea of turning my body into a weapon. "You'd have to find some way to generate a field," I said, "and Beverly really has no idea what crates the radiation."

Wesley nodded. "We could run a particle scan in engineering and then extrapolate the wavelengths of the individual radiation bands and then us _that_ to create a device that can replicate those bands!" By the time he had finished, he was grinning with excitement.

I nodded slowly, and then gave up. "To be honest, I understood about a third of what you just said," I told him.

"Oh, well, if you want to come to Engineering, I can show you on the computers."

Crusher was grinning and his face was practically glowing with excitement and I found that excitement infectious, even if I wasn't sure about the specifics. At this moment, though, all I wanted was to go back to my quarters and get some sleep.

"That does sound interesting, Wesley, but right now all I want to go is go back to my quarters and sleep."

Wesley nodded, not exactly crestfallen but loosing some of his excitement. "Alright. Would you mind if I studied some of your old sickbay records?"

"No, of course not," I laughed. The turbolift finally came to a halt and the doors opened, revealing two blue-shirted medical personnel. They stepped aside to let us pass and then took our places in the lift while Wesley and I continued out into the corridor. "And I'd love to run whatever tests you can come up with, just give it a day or so."

"No problem," Wesley answered. "I've been looking it up and there's been no research on Sandorians. We can start from scratch." He looked thrilled at the idea.

I couldn't help from laughing again. "I'm looking forward to it." I stopped in front of my door. ""This is mine."

"Oh, alright." Wesley nodded, sobering a little. "I have work to catch up on, anyway."

"Don't work too hard," I said. I stepped back and the door slid open. "It was night to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

I stepped back again and let the door close. Yawning, I wiped sleep out of my eyes. My trip to Ten-Forward had taken more out of me than I had expected.

"I didn't think you were going to come back."

I spun around, and then frowned. "Will, you scared the hell out of me!" I rebuked him before crossing the small space to sit beside him on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see how you were doing. You didn't answer so I let myself in."

"I was down at Ten-Forward," I told him. "Didn't feel like staying around here. You weren't here long, were you?"

Will shook his head. "I just got off duty. Captain Picard called a meeting to update us on Sandor."

"Any news?" I asked immediately. To my disappointment, Riker shook his head.

"Not really, just more of the same." He paused. "I'll brief you more tomorrow, give you more details. I'd tell you more tonight, but I'm worn out."

"And I'm exhausted," I said, standing up and stretching.

"I should get back to my quarters," Riker said, standing up, too. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."

"I'm good," I assured him. I walked him to the door. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"First thing. Night, Tasha." The door slid open as be bid me goodnight.

"Night, Will."

He nodded, truly looking tired, and disappeared out the door. I turned back to my bed and, barely remembering to remove my shoes, passed out. It had been a hell of a day.

I had thought I would have adjusted back to life on the Enterprise, but the next morning proved I was not. I had a small breakfast like one I was used to and then sat in the armchair, watching the stars zip past the window, a sight I hadn't seen during my entire time on Karos VII. Thinking back to Karos VII, I wondered, not for the first time, what on Sandor I was doing there. I liked the Enterprise, more than I liked most other places I had been, but that didn't mean I relished the idea of being here. It had lost some of its charm in sight of tomorrow's destination.

Yesterday felt like three complete days rolled into one. By evening, I had been completely distracted fro my real reason for being here. Now, though, the knowledge was back in full force. I had agreed to Will and Picard's plan but that didn't mean I agreed _with_ it and it certainly did not mean I had lost any of my initial panic.

I was still thinking about Sandor, wondering if anything had changed in my absence, when the door buzzed.

"Come in," I called, standing to face my guest. It was Riker, again. He stopped in the doorway.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I stepped to the side. "Yeah, of course." I waved him in. "I've had breakfast, but you want anything?"

"I already ate."

"Ah. Here, sit down then. Any news from Sandor?"

"Nothing new," Will answered again. He took a seat on the couch and I sat beside him as I ha the night before. "I wanted to apologize about last night," he said. "I meant to talk to you last night but by the time you got back I wasn't in the mood to talk. Sorry." He gave a twisted half smile. "I also seem to be making a habit of breaking into your quarters."

I raised an eyebrow. "Twice in one day. You're lucky we're friends; I might start to get the wrong idea about you."

Will laughed and I stood to order a Sandorian tea from the replicator. I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug and leaned up against the wall. "So what did you come to tell me?"

Will leaned forward on the couch. "Captain Picard wants me to brief you more about Sandor. Honestly, there's not much else to tell that you don't already know." Will began to talk and I walked over to sit beside him again. He was right: there wasn't much to tell. The Federation had not had much contact with Sandor Unlike most worlds, Sandor craved neither the recognition of the Federation nor trade with it. It had preferred to keep to itself, developing its own technologies and power at its own rate. The Federation hadn't had official contact with the planet in twenty-five years and even then it had been brief and unproductive.

All this tallied with what I knew of Sandor. I had never even heard of the Federation before I left the planet. I tried to fill in the blanks by telling Will everything I knew of Sandor but that knowledge was painfully small. What I did know of Sandor I had learned mostly before the age of eleven and so it was tainted by my childish view of the world I wasn't the most unbiased of informants, either. I did not look kindly at a planet that had forced me into hiding for two years and then locked me up itself for five more.

Will seemed grateful for any information I gave him, though, proving just how little information they really had about Sandorians. It also explained why they were so desperate for my help: no matter how little I knew about Sandor, they knew less. Sad as it was, I was the person who was the most qualified to contact the Sandorian government.

"Will, I don't know what you think I can do," I said finally, voicing a concern that had haunted me since I had first heard of the plan. "Sure, I've thought of a few more channels to try and contact them, but that doesn't mean they'll answer. They might ignore me just like they did you."

Will sighed. "We're not expecting miracles. Not to insult you, but this really is a last ditch effort." He ran a hand over his beard. "Even knowing more about them helps."

I leaned back into the couch. "Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow," I said. I hopped up, grabbing my mug. "No point worrying about it now, though."

Will stood up as well. "In that case, you want to grab something to eat?"

As he spoke, a communicator buzzed. "Doctor Crusher to Tasha Lawrence's quarters."

I hurried to the replicator and tapped the communications button. "Tasha here."

"Tasha, will you come down to Sickbay? I need to do a checkup since you just came aboard."

"I'm on my way," I promised. I turned back to Will. "I guess that meal will have to wait."

"Guess so, Want me to walk you to Sickbay?"

"No, thanks." I let him lead the way out of my quarters. Out in the corridor, I rested a hand on his arm. "Thanks, Will. Stop by later, we can get something to eat. We need to catch up."

Will squeezed my hand. "We sure do."

"See ya." I waved over my shoulder as I started down to the turbolift. It was a short trip to Sickbay and as soon as I entered the familiar room, Doctor Beverly Crusher hurried up to me.

"Welcome back," she said, giving me a one-armed hug.

"Thanks. It's nice to see you again." I meant it. Six months ago, during my first stint on the Enterprise, I had become friends with Beverly during my frequent visits to Sickbay. After she had discovered that I was a shapeshifter, we had spent hours in Sickbay running scans and discussing my anatomy. As a result, I'd probably spent more time with her than I had with anyone else on the Enterprise, not counting Will.

"If you can just sit up here, this won't take more than a few minutes." Beverly directed me to a biomed and I hopped up on it as she pulled out her tricorder and began to scan.

"So, how have you been?" Beverly asked as she ran the medical scanner around my head.

"Pretty good," I answered. "Karos VII isn't the Enterprise, but it's nice." I craned my neck to the side as Beverly continued to scan. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good. Raise your arms." I obeyed raising them out horizontally. "You know how it is here, always something going on. We've been busy."

"I bet. Are you still working on that dissertation?" Last time we'd med, Crusher had been working on a medical paper detailing the benefits of training doctors in 'primitive' medical techniques.

"Yes. I've nearly finished it, actually. I've added a section on an away mission I was on last month where I had to use native plants to treat an infection." Beverly grew more animated as she spoke. "It really is dangerous, the gaps in cadets' education these days. Most don't even know what a splint is. It's fine if you have access to a medical facility but that's not always true, especially on deep-space or away missions." Beverly snapped shut the tricorder and tapped it on your palm. "You're in decent health. A little overexposure to dust and you might have the beginnings of Ferengi but this should clear it up." She selected a hypospray and inserted a vile. I felt pressure against my neck. "Now," Beverly said, drawing back, "have you had any recent health issues?"

"No," I answered, shaking my head.

"Any sex with alien species?"

I felt myself blush and shook my head again.

"Tasha…"

"No, nothing like that," I told her truthfully.

"Okay, then." Beverly placed the hypospray back on the tray. "You're fine. You seem to have a stronger immune system than humans, but I can't say if that's typical."

I shrugged. I'd never compared the two, either. From what Beverly had said, though, human and Sandorian anatomy was very similar. With Beverly finished, I hopped off the bed and straightened my shirt. "Thanks," I said. "Good to know I didn't pick up any fatal diseases."

"You could have," Beverly said, her voice turning serious. "Karos VII isn't the worst planet you could have landed on but failed Federation colonies don't have the best records. I'll give you some of the less-common immunizations before you go back, just to be safe."

"Thanks" I told her, but inside I wasn't so sure. Karos VII was sounding less appealing by the day and I wants' sure if I wanted go to back.

"Mom, they're setting up a Parrises squares tournament but Commander Rik—Oh, hi Tasha."

"Hi, Wesley," I said as the teenager came to a hurried stop in front of us.

"You two have met?" Beverly asked.

"Last night," I told her. "Parrises squares, huh?" I asked, turning back to Wesley.

Wesley nodded eagerly. "Commander Riker is organizing a tournament in Holodeck Two as a morale booster. He said I could play, but I had to ask you first." He turned back to his mother. "Can I?"

"Wesley, Parrises squares is dangerous…" Beverly began.

"I've done tons of dangerous stuff before," Wesley cut in, sounding like he had rehearsed the argument. "Plus, it'll be fun." He seemed to be really reaching now. "Oh, and Commander Riker said to tell Tasha she could play, too."

Beverly rested her hands on her hips. "Well, you can tell Will that he's found a brilliant way to kill our guest as soon as she's come on board."

"Don't worry about that," I said, raising my hands. "I've no desire to break my ankle like Will almost did last time."

"When did this happen?" Beverly asked suddenly.

"When I was hid— Oh, right." I grinned nervously. "Don't think he mentioned that." Beverly's eyes narrowed as Wesley glanced between us. I shrugged. "You probably shouldn't tell him how you found out when you yell at him," I said.

"He told me he tripped over a cat," Beverly said. "Of course, I should have realize something was wrong when it turned out _you_ were the cat."

I tilted my head to the side. "There is that," I said, laughing. "Try to go easy on him, I think he still thinks he's a kid."

"We'll see," Beverly said, but a hint of a smile quirked the corner of her mouth.

"So this means I can play?" Wesley asked suddenly. I wondered if he was trying to catch his mother off guard. If he was, it didn't work.

"No, I don't want you playing that. I still have some say in what _you_ do."

Wesley opened his mouth again, no doubt to protest.

"You know, I've never seen Engineering," I cut in. "What do you say we skip the tournament and you can be my security escort down there? We can see about those scans you want to run."

Wesley stood silent for a moment, his expression going from argumentative to hopefully. "Really? You don't want to play?"

"Parrises squares? God, no, I've never even played before." I clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's see if we can replicate those radiative Skasis Paradigms."

"Skasis apparatus," Wesley corrected as we headed toward the door. "And I don't think it actually has anything to do with that, it's more…"

Over the next three hours, I learned more about shapeshifting than I would have ever imagined possible. Armed with a tricorder, the entirety of Engineering, and soon joined by Lieutenant Commander Data, Wesley analyzed every aspect of my ability to shapeshift.

"Data, I have no idea what a metaphasic shift is," I said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I didn't go to Starfleet Academy, I'm working as a waitress right now."

"I fail to see how your current occupation—"

"Data!" Geordi called from across the room.

"I was merely—"

"No, it's fine," I cut in, interrupting him again. "You said it didn't matter, anyway." I stood up from the display I had been leaning over and rubbed my back, groaning. "Okay, remind me again: if the radiation is caused by the shifting nuclei, why can't we just figure out why it's shifting and then replicate that effect?" It sounded logical to me but over the past three hours a lot of different things had started to sound logical.

"But if we can't fig—"

"The test results are done!" Wesley exclaimed triumphantly as he came down the hallway and into view. Data, Geordi, and I all looked up as he entered. "They should be in the computer core now."

Data pushed a few buttons on the control station of the table-like display and nodded. "Confirmed, the information is available. However…" Data trailed off and I stepped up next to him to see what had caused him to stop. Almost immediately, Geordi and Wesley shouldered in behind us, causing me to get an elbow in the ribs. T was amazing how quickly you get comfortable with someone when you work with them in one room for three hours.

"These readings don't make any sense," I said after a moment. I did have a bit of experience with computers, even if I was from a relatively backward world, and I knew that the information Wesley had just brought in was unlikely, perhaps even impossible.

"They keep changing," Wesley said. He moved over to my right and hit a few buttons on the flat display, brining up a larger and more detailed chart. "Look at these," he said. I slid over beside him while Data and Geordi moved to the far side. "They keep changing."

"_None_ of the states are stable," Geordi said. "It's like they're…not even from the same person."

"'Constant flux' is right," I muttered, brining up a chart on my nuclei beside the display we were currently looking at. "Hang on," I said slowly as I watched the changing displays, "so if my entire anatomy is constantly changing, then it's the same basic principle as what you use against the Borg." I glanced over at Wesley. "It doesn't have anything to do with what the wavelengths are, it's that they change." Wesley's eyes widened as he thought about this. I glanced p at Data and Geordi to find both studying me.

"How do you know how we fight the Borg?" Geordi asked.

I nearly laughed at the incredulity on Geordi's face. "The Federation isn't exactly secure when it comes to gossip," I said. "Plus I live on a trade planet, the best place to hear these things. You didn't think I jus waited tables, did you?"

"Information regarding the Borg is not classified," Data said. "However, I fail to see any similarities between that information and our current situation."

"No, she's right," Geordi said, recovering. "Maybe not technically, but in theory. We remodulate the frequency of our shields and phasers to fight the Borg so they can't adapt. She does the same thing."

"Except her body does it naturally!" Wesley cut in, completing Geordi's thought. "And it's just a side-effect of the molecular shifts that enable her to change form." Wesley was speaking to all three of as, and I'd long since become used to being referred to as 'her.' It was my body and my molecules we were discussing, after all.

"I like this idea," I said. "If it's a by-product of the shifting that would make more sense than if my body just naturally emitted some kind of jamming signal."

Now it was Data's turn to enter the conversation again. "The idea is plausible. A human would theoretically never be able to produce this effect, but it may be possible for a Sandorian, especially taking into account Tasha's altered anatomy."

"So if my body is undergoing constant…remodulation, then that would explain why the sensors can't detect me. They can't lock on."

There was a moment of silence as the excitement ebbed a little after peaking. I looked down at the changing stats on the flat surface. So this was me. Over the last few hours, it had become more of a science project that anything else. Surprisingly, after years of living in an institution, it didn't bother me much. I was curious about how I worked, more so than most people would be. Of course, most people couldn't transform into a cat.

"If that's true, why does the tricorder work on her?" Wesley asked after a moment.

I didn't have an answer for him but Geordi, ever the Chie Engineer, did. "They work on different principles. We point the tricorder at something and tell it to scan whatever's there but the internal sensors work on their own, scanning every part of the ship and not looking for anything in particular. They can't pick her up."

"You really could go anywhere," Wesley said, looking at me.

"Good thing I'm not a saboteur," I said.

"Good thing you're on our side," Geordi quipped back.

"You're not thinking about defecting, are you?"

I looked up to see Will standing at the end of the systems display. I wasn't sure when he had come in as I had been focused on our conversation.

"It depends on if someone else is willing to pay more. Or anything at all, come to think of it."

"Well, I don't have any money but the Captain did say I could give you this." He held out his open palm to reveal a Starfleet communicator. I hesitatingly took it.

"Mine?" I asked, examining it wide-eyed.

"Yep. Just until you leave. We can't get in touch with you because the ship still can't locate you for some reason."

I grinned at my other three companions. "We're working on that actually."

Riker raised his eyebrows. "Any luck?"

"We may have determined what causes Tasha to be unrecognizable to the sensors but we have not yet verified it," Data informed the Commander. "Neither do we know if we are capable of reproducing the effect."

As Data spoke, I turned the Starfleet com badge over in my fingers. I hadn't been issued one the last time I was here, the result of either an oversight or the cat that by the time anyone had thought about it, there wasn't really any need to locate me quickly. Affixing the badge to my shirt, I straightened my clothing. There, that looked better. I returned my attention to my companions, who were explaining the details of our investigation to a rather intrigued Riker.

"…so if this is true, we'll just have to keep experimenting to see if we can copy it," Wesley was saying.

"You'll have to go on without me," I told my colleagues. "I'm no engineer, I don't have the stamina of you three."

"But we just now might have figured it out!" Wesley exclaimed, a faint whine creeping into his voice. "You can't leave now that it's really getting fun."

I almost broke into a laugh, this time at the young man's definition of fun. I doubted any other teenager would count hanging out with two senior officers in Engineering running tests as fun.

"I'm sure you three will get on fine without me," I told Wesley. "Besides, I just remembered that I haven't eaten and Commander Riker owes me lunch." I bid them goodbye and let Will lead me out of engineering with Geordi, Data, and Wesley watching us go. For perhaps the first time, I wondered what the senior staff thought was going on, and had gone on, between me and Will. The thought was a bit unsettling for, despite the one night in which _nothing really happened_, nothing had happened. I wasn't going to let it upset me, though, not on my last free day aboard the Enterprise.

"So how did the Parrises squares go?" I asked. "Did you smash them?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

For some reason, I kept thinking of the next day as my last aboard the Enterprise. I knew it wasn't, knew I was not actually going down to the planet's surface and much less staying there, but the idea of arriving at Sandor seemed to mark the end of my brief passage aboard the Enterprise. The past day had been a wonderful but brief vacation from worrying about Sandor.

So when morning came earlier than I would have liked, I wasn't thinking back to the pleasures of yesterday but ahead to my return to my home world. Before I knew it, the computer was delivering its wake-up call and then Will was knocking at the door on his way to the Bridge.

"We're almost to Sandor," he told me. "You ready?"

"Yes," I lied. I tied back my hair, now blonde again, and straightened my shirt. For some reason, it was important that I look the best I could. "Okay." I nodded to him. "Lead the way."

Will started for the door, but stopped just before it opened. I stopped short just before bumping into him. He stood still for a second before turning around. I waited expectantly.

"Tasha, even if this doesn't work out, we all know you're doing your best."

"You know, saying that just makes me feel like it's not gonna work," I laughed. "But, thanks." I was so close, I had to look straight up at him. I moved to step back, but he placed his hand on my elbow.

"I really appreciate you helping us out. I know it can't be easy, leaving home like you did and just following us out here."

"I'm helping out a friend," I said, frowning at Will's sudden sincerity. "You'd do the same for me."

"Yeah, I would," Will answered, no trace of laughter in his voice. "And…" He petered out. I glanced down at his hand were it still rested on my arm as if forgotten and then up into his eyes again.

"Will, is something wrong?" I asked. I didn't always get him, exactly, but he was acting very strangely.

"No. I'm just…glad you're back." Before I could react, Will leaned across the foot that separated us and gently pressed his lips against mine. I stood stock still for a second before pulling back and stepping away. His arm fell limply at his side.

"Woah, what….What was…Why…What was that?" I stuttered.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"You just tried to kiss me."

"Well…yeah."

"Why?"

Will glanced around my quarters. "Hey, I'm sorry. Forget about it." He stepped toward the door and it swung open as it detected him.

"No, Will, hang on." I grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. More, I pulled on his arm and he decided to follow my lead. "What's this about?"

Will looked uncomfortable. I might have been, but all I felt at the moment was confusion.

"I missed you."

"And I missed you too. But I never…"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Will cut in. "After you left, I missed seeing you everyday. About that night…"

I felt myself start to blush and I looked down at my feet.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, not knowing what to say but knowing I had to force on somehow for Will's sake.

"I didn't think it was anything, but after you left…"

"I'm sorr—"

"It's not your fault," Will interrupted. "I didn't know if you…I had to try it." He rubbed his beard. "I'm sorry if this hurts things," he said. "I want you as a friend, but if you—"

"Will, no! This doesn't change anything." I twisted my hair around my finger distractedly. "You get me more than anyone else."

Will opened his mouth and then looked like he reconsidered. "We should get up to the Bridge." This time, he waited for me to go first. The walk down the hallway was awkward but I could not insist we flesh the strange incident because we had to hurry. When we got to the turbolift, I turned to him again.

"We need to talk about this more, Will."

Will sighed. "I know."

"Tonight, after we're done. You can buy me dinner."

I got a laugh out of him. "My pleasure."

The Bridge was full of the rest of the senior officers when we got there. Picard stood when we entered and I noticed Data at Ops and Wesley at the Con. Worf stood behind the tactical station, looking, as always, ready for a fight. As I followed Will down the ramp, I saw Deanna Troi sitting to Picard's left, the first I had seen of her since my arrival. She gave me a smile.

"We are within visual range," Data said as I took up a standing position to Will's right. The three of us stood in a row, watching the viewscreen. I took a deep breath, trying to get over the total bewilderment I felt over Will's confession.

"Onscreen," Picard ordered. Data hit a few buttons and the screen immediately filled with a background of stars behind a rapidly growing planet. I stepped forward as the planet grew bigger, feeling my breath catch in my throat. Slowly, Sandor filled the screen, the familiar outlines of continents and oceans moving so slowly below us.

"Assume standard orbit, Mr. Crusher," Picard ordered.

"Aye, sir, standard orbit."

A few seconds passed as I stared at the planet we circled. White streaks of clouds obscured part of the planet but for the most part it was surprisingly clear. We were on the lighted side of the planet and, far below, I could make out the area that had been my former home, my former prison, a place I hadn't seen in over ten years.

Why the hell had I come back?

"Are you alright?" Will stepped over to touch my arm, a note of worry reaching his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. I turned my attention to the viewscreen, trying to watch it dispassionately. "I'm ready."

"Mr. Worf," Picard said, "open a channel to their government command."

"Channel open, sir, but there is no response," Worf informed the Captain a moment later, his voice carrying its usual tone of aggravation.

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise," Picard began, stepping forward. "Please respond." After a second he glanced back at Worf, looking as though he didn't really expect a reply. He got none.

"Still no response, sir."

"Continue transmitting," Picard returned his full attention back to the viewscreen , tugging down his shirt, and began again. "I have with me someone to whom you may wish to speak. She is a Sandorian and we are willing to let her speak on our behalf so we can negotiate a satisfactory agreement. Please respond."

There was again no response and Picard nodded to me. Breathing hard, I stepped forward and addressed the planet below.

"This is Tasha Lawrence on board the Enterprise. I was born and raised on Sandor. The Federation has asked me to contact you so we can work out an ending to the conflict. If you won't deal with the Federation, then please deal with me." I paused, then added, "None of us want this situation to get any worse. The Federation is willing to negotiate with you. Please respond." When I finished, we waited a moment and then Picard nodded at Worf to cut the signal.

"Relay that continually over all frequencies and to all known Sandorian channels," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Worf answered. I imagined my voice being relayed continuously over all Sandorian communication channels. It was an amusing thought. "Still no response."

I turned to Will. "Can I see all the channels you're hailing them on again?"

"Of course, right up here."

I led the way to the rear of the Bridge and watched as Will pulled up a list of Sandorian governmental communication channels on science station. Quickly scanning the list, the same I had seen the day before, I confirmed that they had added all the possibilities I had told Riker about. I tapped a few buttons, opening up civilian frequencies that were basically of no use. As the minutes ticked by, I began to see how useless this entire operation was, not to mention ridiculously futile.

"Sir, incoming transmission from the surface!"

Picard turned to look at Worf as Riker and I returned to our former positions beside the Captain.

"Well, it seems we have their attention," Picard said. "Onscreen."

The viewscreen flared into life to reveal a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair. She sat with her hands tightly balled-up in front of her and looked incredibly annoyed.

"Federation starship," she began, "you have been harassing our planet for some time but now you have resorted to cheap tricks in order to attract our attention. Explain yourselves."

Picard stepped forward a step. "I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of this vessel," he told her. "We have been attempting to make contact with your government and have recently enlisted the help of a Sandorian to help establish peaceful relations with your planet." Picard gestured toward Riker and I so I stepped forward.

"I'm Tasha Lawrence," I told the woman. "I was born on Sandor twenty-eight years ago. I know it's not your policy to communicate like this, but we haven't been able to get through to the proper authorities. If you could help us, we want to try—"

" I don't have the time to listen to this!" the woman said, cutting me off. "No Sandorian would work for the Federation against us. Don't try to deceive us again."

"I'm not…" I began, trying to explain that this was no deception, but the viewscreen went blank.

"Transmission ceased," Worf said. " I cannot reestablish contact."

I angrily clenched my fists at my side, frustrated by the Sandorian woman's ridiculous refusal to listen. I ground my teeth, trying to prevent an angry outburst. So this was what I had returned home for, what I had left down my carefully constructed guard for, to be called a liar and then cut off. I wished I was lying, that I had been born on some other world.

"They're not going to listen to me," I said, turning to Picard. It was the most I could say without resorting to a childish 'I told you so.'

"But they did respond," Picard responded, actually looking unfazed, "which is more than we have accomplished. We'll keep trying. Mr. Worf."

Worf nodded and pressed several buttons on his tactical display, presumable to continue transmitting my message. It seemed futile to me but, then again, they had all claimed this mission to be futile from the start. That was why they had come to me, because every single other option had failed.

This one wasn't going to. I hurried to the work station at the back of the Bridge and hit a few buttons, leaning over the display. The Federation didn't know much about Sandor but they had been taking scans of the planet for weeks now.

"What are you doing?" Riker asked from behind me.

"There must be a way to get their attention," I told him. "This is getting ridiculous."

Half an hour later, though, the situation hadn't improved. No message from the planet had been forthcoming and the atmosphere on the Bridge had returned much to normal. Picard had recently retired to his ready room, leaving Will in charge. He was currently sitting beside me, propped up on the sloping display as I leaned forward in my chair, still searching through the databases.

"You really don't know anything about Sandor," I grumbled as I found yet another file full of conjecture and incomplete information.

"You haven't been the friendliest species," Riker countered.

I shot him an angry look at having grouped me together with the rest of Sandor. It certainly wasn't my fault that my species had been nearly Xenophobic in their refusal to interact with alien worlds. The fact he seemed to have some kind of confused feelings for me didn't lessen my anger any.

Instead of answering, I hit a few random buttons angrily, feeling my usually mild temper rising. The longer I sat here the more ridiculous this entire journey seemed. I should have just told Will "No," stayed on Karos VII, and gone on as normal. At least then I would have been working toward something instead of this futile chase.

"Whose bright idea was it to recruit me, anyway?" I asked him, backing back in the chair and crossing my arms. I spoke angrily but quietly so no one would overhear. "You don't even know what you expect me to get done!"

Riker's eyes narrowed. "We've done everything we could do without risking a war. We both knew this was a long shot when you signed on."

"But we're not accomplishing _anything_!" I protested. "And there's nothing I can do, even if this is an emergency I…" I abruptly ended my rant, staring wide-eyed up at Will. "Emergency," I repeated.

"What?"

"Emergency. An emergency channel. When I was a kid, there were rumors about an emergency communication channel reserved for the Prime Minister in case of war, a disaster, whatever. It was supposed to link directly to the PM's office."

"We haven't found anything like that."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" I asked absently, working the panel with renewed vigor, my anger at Will forgotten. "It would be undetectable if you didn't know what to look for." I scanned the display, but wasn't sure what I was looking for, either. "Worf," I said, standing up and hurrying to the tactical display. Will came up beside me. "If there was an emergency channel designed to be undetectable to everyone but the Sandorian government, is there any you could detect it?" Now that I was asking the question, though, it sounded stupid.

Worf looked up behind me at Riker for confirmation and he must have nodded because Worf looked down at his display. "If there is an undetected signal on the planet, it will still leave traces from the encryption algorithm. The main computer's FTL processors should be able to detect and decrypt the channel."

Worf stepped to the right and I moved out of the way, watching him accessing the ship's systems. After a moment, he looked up at Riker.

"Confirmed, sir, there _is_ an encrypted channel on the planet. It is currently not in use." The Klingon sounded angry, no doubt at having missed the signal is the first place.

"Riker to Picard," Will said.

"What is it, Will?"

"You might want to come in here, sir, Worf's found something."

Seconds later, Picard came striding out of his office and, after a quick assessment, joined us at Tactical.

"What is it?"

"Worf's detected a hidden signal from Sandor," Riker explained. "Tasha thinks it may tie in directly to the Prime Minister's office."

Picard's eyebrows rose. "Well, then, let's find out. On screen."

The image of Sandor was again replaced with a view of an office, only this one was much nicer and larger than the one belonging to the brown-haired woman. The screen we were looking out of seemed to be fastened to a wall for it looked out over a large desk and beyond that, three large floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was well-furnished, with a couch and small table off to one side and several art pieces decorating the walls. The thing that drew my attention, though, was the man sitting in the chair. He was looking down at his desk at a large, built-in computer display. While I could not tell what he was looking at, it appeared to be schematics of something. He had his head down so all we could see of him was his short-cropped hair.

"Dominic, I thought I told you to now bother me," he said, his voice exasperated. He glanced up at the end of his sentences. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, standing up, his eyes wide with indignation. "What is this?"

I hurried down to face the man. "Mr. Prime Minister?" I asked, barely believing that my idea had worked. I also had no idea if this really was the Prime Minister, as the position had changed hands several times during my absence.

"Yes, I am! And you're on a secure line!" His eyes moved up behind me to take in my surroundings. "Who are you?"

"This is the Federation Starship the U.S.S. Enterprise," Picard answered, coming down to stand beside me. "We're sorry to invade your communications network but we had difficulty contacting you." The Prime Minister glared at Picard and then turned his green eyes to me.

"Mr. Prime Minister, I'm sorry for the intrusion," I said quickly. "The Federation has been trying to contact you for a long time and they couldn't get through so they asked me for help because I was born on Sandor. If you would just hear us out—"

"I don't have time for this," the Prime Minister interrupted, sounding just like the other woman. "You have accessed a secure channel which you have no right to be on. I have more important things to do than talk with you."

"I don't mean to take up your time, sir, but the Federation is willing to negotiate for access to the wormhole. If you or your ambassador will agree to meet with us, we could work something out Mr.…" I trailed off, realizing I still didn't know the man's name. He didn't supply it.

"You can tell your Federation that we're not interested in negotiations. I don't care if you were born here, you're not a Sandorian now. Don't use this line again."

He leaned over the desk and hit a button, ending the transmission. The viewscreen went blank. I turned to Picard and Riker, wanting to see their reaction to our exchange, but I couldn't read anything. Poker faces.

"I can reestablish contact, sir," Worf said, breaking me out of my reverie.

"No, let's let him think it over for a little while," Picard said. "He knows we can contact him now, maybe he'll give us a little more consideration." He tugged down his shirt. "Conference room."

I followed Will and Picard into the conference room. Will sat at Picard's left and, at Will's nod, I took a seat across from him. The rest of the senior staff filed in behind us. As soon as everyone was seated, Picard spoke up.

"Thanks to Tasha, we've finally succeeded in making contact with Sandor's government, albeit briefly. We can now contact their Prime Minister at any time. Mr. Data?"

Data, sitting to my right, nodded and tapped a few buttons on the tabletop. Immediately, the screen at the end of the room came to life and displayed a picture of the man we had just seen.

"The current Prime Minister of Sandor is a man named Sebastian Grey. He is thirty years old, the younge—"

"Sebastian Grey?" I cut in, the name familiar.

"You know him?" Will asked.

"I dunno, it could be someone else." I nodded at Data to continue. "Sorry, Data."

He nodded and continued his briefing. "Grey has been Prime Minister for three years after he was elected by popular vote. In that time, Sandor has increased production of both starships and factories as well as establishing a mining colony on one of their moons. The planet still refuses to engage in interplanetary trade, but their economy is thriving and they are in what the citizens have dubbed their 'golden age.'"

I raised my eyebrows. Sandor had progressed in the years since I'd left it. It had never been a poor planet but the economy and production had been less than amazing. They must have fixed all that. Or rather, this Sebastian Grey, whoever he was, had fixed it. Now everything was rainbows and butterflies, except for the hundreds of colonists about to die on Minos III.

"Do you have anything more on Grey?" Riker asked.

"Affirmative. Sebastian grey was born 2339 on Sandor in the city of Lenore. From the ages 11 to 17, he attended a boarding school in Beldon, after which he enrolled at a university in the planet capital, Wenton."

Data trailed off as everyone turned to look at me. I realized I had stood up.

"Is there something wrong?" Picard asked.

"No, I-I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not feeling well. I'd like to go back to my quarters."

"Perhaps you should report to Sickbay," the captain suggested, concern crossing his face.

"Good idea." I nodded to the table in general and hurried out of the conference room before anyone could say anything more. The turbolift was thankfully empty and the trip to my quarters quick. Once I got there, though, I had nothing to do but stand and stare out my windows at the planet below us.

I jumped when the doorbell rang. "Who is it?" I called.

"Doctor Crusher. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." I hurried to the door and opened it for her. "Come in."

"Thanks." Beverly sipped into the room and I noticed she was carrying a med-kit.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"You tell me," she said. "The Captain asked how you were doing so I thought I'd come and check up on you."

"I'm fine," I said. "Sorry if I worried anyone, I just wanted to be alone."

"I though so." She shot me a sly smile. "It's not the first time someone's used Sickbay to get out of a meeting."

"No, I guess not." I forced a smile but it disappeared as I let out a sigh. "We made contact with the Prime Minister."

"I heard. Captain Picard was very pleased with your progress." Beverly slipped past me and set her med kit down on the table. I followed her but remained standing, too tense to relax. "You don't seem happy about it," Crusher finally commented.

"No, it's not th—I know him, Beverly. Sebastian Grey, the PM, I know him."

"From when you were a kid?"

"Yes. We were best friends when I was young. He was two years older than me. And now he's Prime Minister."

"Is that so bad?"

"Yes!" I slammed my hand down on the glass tabletop. "He was the _one_ happy part of my childhood, the _one_ good memory I have of Sandor, and now he's head of the planet! Beverly, do you think he's the one blockading the wormhole?"

"Possibly," Beverly said noncommittally. "Alright, probably, but that doesn't make him any less the person you knew. He's probably just doing what he thinks is best for your planet."

"It's not just the wormhole, it's the whole idea. I _hate_ Sandor and the whole, messed-up system." I sank down into one of the chairs. "Sebastian was the only thing I still like about Sandor and now he's gone and gotten mixed up in everything that's wrong about it." I rested my head in my hands, running them back through my hair. "I knew it was mistake coming back here."

Beverly leaned across the table. "You'll get through this. You've already found a way to contact this Prime Minister; it won't be long before they agree to talk. I bet we'll get out of here soon."

I raised my head. "It's not just being here. It's remembering everything again. I keep trying to get away from this planet, but I can't. No matter how far I run, it's still my home."

Beverly's face turned sympathetic and she was silent for a moment. "I can't pretend to know how you feel. I was born on Earth. I can't imagine what it's like to not be able to go home, to have your own species turn against you…" she shook her head. "Will's told me a few things, but not much."She twisted her hands together. "You're pretty much a mystery to everyone on board."

I snorted. "Some mystery," I said. "I can't even figure myself out."

"Can any of us?" Beverly laughed. "Come on, tell me some stories about Karos VII."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Riker to Tasha Lawrence."

I hopped up before realizing I was wearing a communicator. I tapped it. "Tasha here."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Any transmissions from Sandor?"

"I don't know what you did, but Minister Grey just contacted us. He wants to meet, and you're coming down. Meet us in Transporter room three."

"I'm on my way," I managed, surprise nearly rendering me speechless as I hurried out my door.

"Captain, I'd feel better about this if you let me go down," Riker was saying when I entered the transporter room.

"Number One, your concern is appreciated but I think hardly necessary."

"Captain, you're entering a potentially hostile situation."

"Will, I understand your concern," Picard said, raising a hand. "But I am bringing Mr. Worf with me and I doubt Sandor would choose a diplomatic meeting to stage an attack." When Will opened his mouth to protest, Picard cut him off. "If we need your assistance, I'm sure we can count on you." He turned to me, although I had no idea when he had first noticed I was there.

"Thank you for coming down. Grey requested that you come because you're from the planet. I suspect he'll feel more comfortable around you."

I nodded although my stomach was knotting up.

"Captain, about Grey…"

"Don't worry, you won't have to do any actual diplomacy. Grey most likely thinks you will be sympathetic to his situation and so wants you there." He nodded at Worf and then to me. "Let's go."

I followed the two them up onto the platform. As Picard nodded to transporter chief O'Brien, I shot Will a smile. Then the transporter room disappeared.

When I drifted back into awareness, my first thought was that I was lying on something soft. I groaned, shifting about, and realized my face was pressing into some kind of fabric. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the warm blankets but as my consciousness returned, as did my memory, or lack thereof.

As it came back, I flipped over and hastily scanned my surroundings. I was alone, at least for the moment, in a small room. The bed occupied nearly a third of it and the only other furnishings were an armchair and an opaque screen that must have hidden a bathroom. Whoever had designed the room had done so with great care; it even had a rug on the floor and a painting hanging on the wall. The only thing it missed was a door.

Unsteadily I sat up and immediately realized I was dizzy. My head was already throbbing and the rest of my body sore, which made me think that however I had arrived here, it hadn't been comfortably. I thought back to my last clear memory, trying to figure out where I could be. The last thing I remembered was being in the transporter room with Picard and Worf, about to beam over. Or maybe I had beamed down, I couldn't remember.

Shaking my fuzzy head didn't clear it so I stood up, grabbing onto the wall briefly for support. Once stable, I explored my room. Despite the decorations, nothing here was useful in determining where I was. The furniture was bolted down or, in the case of the bed, actually built into the wall. As I grew more aware, my panic rose. Starting at one corner, I hurried around the wall, looking for any sign of an exit. I found none, just smooth metal. Breathing harder, I started around the room again, desperate for a way out.

Stop, I told myself firmly. Wait. I forced myself to stand still, slowing my breathing. I could not afford to panic. Someone had put me in this cage, that much was obvious, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me panic. This room had been built for a human or Sandorian, not a shapeshifter. It couldn't be airtight and that meant I could get out. I could just shapeshift and escape. I closed my eyes and shifted.

I came to lying on the hard rug, flat on my back. I blinked a few times, staring up at the lighted ceiling. Cautiously, I rose to my feet. What had just happened? Again, I closed my eyes and focused on changing my form.

When I awoke the second time, on the floor again and still in my Sandorian form, I couldn't dismiss the fact that this wasn't a coincidence. Both times I had tried to shift, I had passed out. Something, I had no idea what, was preventing me from shifting. The idea made my breath come faster and my palms turn clammy. Shifting had always been my defense, my way out of any situation, and now I couldn't do it.

As terror filled me, I fought the urge to simply crawl onto the bed and curl up into the fetal position. The Enterprise would find me. Belatedly, I remembered the com badge I had been given, only to find it wasn't attached to my shirt any longer. It didn't matter, I told myself. The Captain and Lieutenant Worf had been with me. Either they would get out of here and come find me or else Will on the Enterprise would rescue all of us. It was just a matter or time. In the meantime, I wasn't going to cower. I started at the bed and slowly started to look for a way out. Other people managed without shape-shifting and so would I.

Time didn't seem to pass in the tiny room. Nothing changed, not the yellow light emanating from overhead nor the eerie silence that had to come from sound-proofed walls. Long before I gave up my escape attempt, hunger began to set in. I kept up my search, though, until I was forced to admit that this was a perfect cage. There was no way out. Eventually, I sank to the floor, reluctant to even use the arm-chair provided for me.

I was sitting cross-legged on the rug when I heard the rush of air and metallic sound of metal scraping against metal. As I hastily stood and backed up against the bed, a section of the wall to my left slid open. As I saw shadowy movement just beyond the opening, I immediately reacted by instinct and tried to shift. The last thing I saw was someone entering the cell.

I jerked upright as soon as I regained consciousness. Blinking spots out of my eyes, I immediately realized I was not alone. A middle-aged man sat quietly in the armchair near the foot of the bed, hands folded serenely on his lap. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed and shook my head to clear it, a slow smile spread over his face.

"I see you've joined the living," he said, a faint accent tingeing his words, marking him as from the north. "I was getting worried about you. Three times in just a few hours, not very wise."

Other questions came to my mind, but the one that came out was, "You've been watching me?"

"Of course. I had to make sure you didn't hurt you yourself. You do have a history of that." Something in the way he said it made my blood run cold. I couldn't keep my face from showing everything I was feeling as I stared at him. He smiled smugly as he continued. "You're surprised I know? Don't be. I know all about you, Tasha. Miss Lawrence, a common name, probably why you gave it to us instead of picking a new one. Not very wise, though, was it, coming back here after all this time. Not after what you did."

"What do you want?" I demanded, grasping fistfuls of blanket in each clenched hand.

The man's face darkened, his sparse, graying stubble clinging to his clenched jaw. "You. But we can get to that later," he added, waving his hand as if to brush away an unwanted concern. "Right now, I want to know why the Federation tried to get you to infiltrate Sandor."

Despite my bleak circumstances, I almost laughed at the absurdity. "Infiltrate? Sandor? I'm not here to spy on you, I'm here to get you to talk."

"Come now, Tasha, let's not play games. I don't think you'll like my rules. Now, tell me what your mission here was."

"My_mission_ was to get your stubborn government to communicate with the Federation!" I told him, my anger fueled by fear. "No one would even try to negotiate with them, least of all that Sebastian Grey. Where is he, anyway? I glanced around for hidden cameras, but found none. "Is he watching us, too?"

"The Prime Minister has better things to do than consort with traitors and spies," the man told me, his voice disapproving.

"Well, this was his idea then," I said, knowing it had to be. "You tell him I want to see him."

"I'm not used to taking orders from prisoners," he said.

"Just tell Sebastian to come down here, or I won't tell you anything. I'm sure he'll listen."

For a second, I was not sure what the man was going to do, but then he stood and nodded. A second later, a grim smile broke out on his face.

"He's coming down in half an hour. Well played, though. This is going to be fun."

He turned and left the same he had come. Once he had disappeared, the doors closed and the wall was once again a single sheet of metal. There was no way to open it from inside. After a minute or so, I leaned back and let out a sigh, more frightened now than before the man's visit. They knew who I was and had apparently intentionally captured _me_ instead of just nabbing me alongside Captain Picard and Worf. They could do whatever they wanted with me down here in my cell. Wherever we were, I knew it had to be well hidden. I swallowed hard and prayed that Riker found me soon.

I stood up when the door opened again, more as an attempt to gain a little leverage than as any sign of respect for my guest. As he entered, I tugged down my blue shirt, trying to feel more ready for this.

The Prime Minister strode leisurely through the doorway, his black shoes padding softly on the metal floor. As Grey entered, I found myself staring at him. Although I was certain he was the same boy I had known as a child, I could find no resemblance beyond the black hair and green ears. This man was tall, maybe six foot or a little under, while my childhood friend had always been on the short side. He was dressed in the same formal black he had worn when I had seen him over the viewscreen. This Grey was also sporting a neat, close-cut beard and a hint of a mustache. But I supposed seventeen years was a very long time, long enough to change someone beyond recognition.

"Miss Lawrence, I am Prime Minister Sebastian Grey," he said as the door closed behind him. The small room seemed to grow smaller as it did.

"I know who you are," I answered. "It's been a long time."

Grey nodded. "Eleven years since you left. Broke out is more accurate. You were in a maximum security facility, and you killed one of the supervisors there."

"Like I had a choice," I told him. I had done what the man had forced me to do and I had come to terms with my actions. "We both know what it's like in those 'facilities.' Now why don't we stop playing around and you tell me what you've kidnapped me for."

"Dominic was right, you are direct. Alright, we can get right to it if you like. But why don't we sit down first? We might as well be comfortable."

I raised my eyebrows and glanced around the cell. If he had wanted me comfortable, he would not have locked me in this cage. Nevertheless, I turned and took a seat in the armchair, leaving the bed to him. I wasn't scared anymore, not of Grey. I didn't harbor any delusions about some bond of friendship we still shared but neither could I bring myself to fear a man who I had known as an eleven-year-old boy who was terrified to leave home for the first time. And, to be honest, the man called Dominic scared me more than Grey did.

"I don't want you to think of yourself as a prisoner," Grey started out. "We did abduct you, but it was for your own good. I'm sure you'll understand after I explain."

"Explaining things truthfully has never been your strong suit, Sebastian," I said. It was true: Sebastian had been a frequent liar as a child. Even after I had known him for six years, I couldn't tell whether he was telling the truth. He had never used his talents against me, though, just the occasional parent or teacher.

Grey frowned. "Whatever research you've done must have shown that I've been very forthright during my time as Prime Minister. I'll be the same with you, Miss Lawrence," he promised, leaning forward on the bed as if he couldn't restrain his earnestness. "I don't know what the Federation has told you, but I can assure you that they are lies."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sandor has been struggling for decades, centuries, because of the Federation's constant refusal to share information and technology. We have been allocated the position of second-rate species in this Federation-run quadrant. We've been suffering for _years_!" He slammed his fist into his palm to emphasize his point and his expression was fierce but the action seemed hollow. I remembered that he was a politician and had probably made this same, carefully manicured argument many times before.

"In recent years, Sandor has begun to prosper," Grey was now saying. "We have improved our ships and strengthened our economy by off-world mining. But as soon as we do, the Federation comes down on us, makes a major conflict out of a minor disagreement."

"You're refusing them access to their colony," I told Grey, finding it difficult to believe he could call that a 'minor conflict.' "Thousands of people could die if they don't receive food and water soon."

"Only because the Federation still refuses to acknowledge our right to the wormhole!" Grey argued. "If they would _promise_ payment, they would not even have to deliver, then we would let them use the wormhole. But they refuse to comply, refuse to accept that we have finally claimed what was rightfully ours."

"They were trying to negotiate!" I told Grey, completely astounded by what I was hearing. "They brought _me_, of all people, in all the way from Karos VII just because there was a chance I might get your attention! You cannot seriously believe that the Federation is ignoring you."

"The Federation is just trying to keep Sandor technologically and intellectually deprived so they can control us, like they do so many other planets. We won't listen to their ridiculous offers if they won't meet our requests." He paused for a breath. "The Federation has a surplus of everything we asked for; they have a duty to supply what we need."

"Yeah, that sounds like the boy who used to steal chalk because the school had so much," I snapped. "You haven't matured at all, you're just better at rationalizing it now."

Grey froze, hand stiff on his shirt where he had straightened it. "What?"

"What, you didn't think I forgot already, did you?" But now it was my turn to stare at him, mind working. He had said I'd been gone eleven years, not the seventeen since we had seen each other. When I had brought up explaining things, he had mentioned research I would have done, not knowing him personally. Slowly, the answer dawned on me. "You don't know who I am, do you?" I asked him.

"I've read your file," he said. "Most of it." He looked rattled, though, thrown off-kilter by my comment about the chalk. That made sense now. I doubted anyone else besides his teacher and parents knew about his childhood thieving, if it could even be called that.

"God, Sebastian!" I burst out. "You kidnap me and bring me here, and you don't even know who I am?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grey said obstinately, regaining his composure with the speed of a politician.

"2346, you meet a little blonde girl in her secret spot by the stream and decide to share," I started. "Or early '47, you first convince her to steal chalk for you because you got caught so often and the two of you draw on the sidewalk. Or how about this? 2352, you tell her parents that she can turn into a bird! That ring any bells?"

Grey had stood up, his legs pressing back against the bed, his white face contrasting sharply with his stubble. His hands hung limp at his sides as he stared at me like he had seen a ghost.

"That's not possible," he whispered.

"Just how far back did that file go?" I asked, standing up. Like most people, he rose up above me. "Come on, Sebastian, how many Tasha Lawrences to you know?"

"It's a common name!"

"Not that common!"

"But you're dead!"

That stopped me. "What?"

"You're dead!"

We stared at each other for a moment, neither able to continue. Finally, I broke the silence.

"You think I'm dead?"

Grey shook his head. "This is a trick," he said. "Someone put you up to this, one of my enemies."

"You think I'm dead?" I repeated, louder this time.

"You were killed in 2354 after you tried to kill an officer! You were part of a shapeshifter organization trying to assassinate government officials."

I stared at the man, open-mouthed. Whatever I had expected to find upon meeting Prime Minister Sebastian Grey, it certainly had not been this.

"They told everyone I had been killed?" I asked.

"Tasha Lawrence _was_ killed! I don't know who you are, but you are not the girl from Lenore."

"Do you really think I'm pretending to be someone else? God's sake, Sebastian, why would anyone want to impersonate your childhood friend?"

"The Federation. My enemies both here and off Sandor. Anyone could have hired you."

I passed my hand over my eyes, trying to stay calm. "I was thirteen in 2354," I said, focusing on what he had said about my death instead of the accusations against my identity, too stunned to get past the tale of my own murder. "Do you really think I was part of an anti-government group? Would a _thirteen_-year-old try to kill an officer?" My voice came out biting, sarcastic.

"Shapeshifters will do anything."

I couldn't take that. "The _government_ will do anything! When I was eleven, I was locked in the attic by my own parents! When I was thirteen, men came and drug me off to a prison because they said I was dangerous. I spent five years there, being told over and over again how evil shapeshifting was, how dangerous _I_ was! I happened to be born different than everyone else and _that_ made me a criminal, not anything I did so don't you dare tell me I'm an imposter and don't you dare say shapeshifters are capable of anything!" I finished, breathless and red, my voice echoing back from the bare walls. "I don't know you anymore and I don't really want to, but do me the courtesy of believing that I am who I saw I am." I fell silent again, breathing heavily, glaring at Sebastian with all the anger I had felt toward this government.

"You're not dead."

"Not yet!" I responded tartly.

"No, they told me you were dead. I was at school in Beldon when I got a transmission saying you had been killed and not to ask about you anymore. I tried to find out what happened, but no one would talk to me."

I took a few deep breaths and clenched my fists, warring between continuing anger and catering to the shock now written across Grey's face. Finally, I let out a last breath and returned to my seat.

"Obviously, I didn't die," I said, voice level now and mildly regretting my outburst. Years of loneing it had made me unused to having to maintain relationships but I had been getting better over the past six months. "I stayed in the house until I was thirteen and then the government locked me in that compound for four more years. I guess they're still keeping it secret if they told everyone I was dead."

"Your parents had a funeral," Grey exclaimed before trailing off. "Tasha." I looked up at him, still standing, and found him staring down at me. "You're alive."

"Yes, I am," I said, repeating it for what seemed like the fourth time. "Wait, my parents had a funeral?"

"Yes. They incinerated your body at the old cemetery because they said they didn't want you buried."

Again, I was struck speechless, staring at Grey, who had finally sat down. Not only had my parents played along with my faked death, they had also made sure no one could ever discover that my casket had been empty. "So…I'm dead, then."

"Legally, yes. I checked the papers myself a few years ago once I got into politics, just to see. You've been dead for seventeen years." He shook his head, his eyes not leaving my face, as if believing that I would disappear again if he looked away.

"Did you miss me that much?" I asked, trying to lighten the situation even though I wasn't feeling so light myself. I had just found out my own parents had declared me dead.

Grey shook his head and then, as if realizing what he was saying 'no' to, stopped. "You just disappeared. I never knew what happened to you. I didn't know you were the Tasha Lawrence in the file."

I stiffened when I heard that, remembering why I was here in the first place. Chatting with Grey was all well and good but it did not change the fact that he had kidnapped me somehow and had locked me in this cage. Even if he did remember our friendship fondly, that was no guarantee that he would treat me well here and now.

The same thought must have crossed Grey's mind because he frowned suddenly. "If you're the one in the file, then you're the shapeshifter who broke out and killed that man."

My eyes narrowed without me realizing it. "I'm not ashamed of being a shapeshifter, Sebastian. I'm here because a friend asked me to come, not because I relished coming back to this prejudiced place. And I gave that man a chance, I told him to leave, but he came at me anyway."

"You're still a criminal." But Sebastian's voice had lost both it's persuasiveness of earlier and harshness of a few minutes ago. He seemed to be repeating a mantra to himself so he would believe it.

"My only crime was existing. I've paid whatever debt I owe for _that_ a long time ago."

"Then why did you come back?"

So we were back to this. "I have friends on the Enterprise," I told him truthfully. "They asked for my help and I couldn't tell them 'no.'" I let out a mocking laugh. "Kind of wish I had."

"So you're really helping them." Sebastian's voice held resignation.

I opened my mouth to respond but then closed it. I had come here to make contact with the government and maybe get them to negotiate or change their minds. Things hadn't gone exactly as planned but that didn't mean I couldn't still try. I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity than to plead my case one-on-one with my childhood friend turned Prime Minister.

"They're not bad people, Sebastian. They really want to talk with you, but they can't give you the weapons you're asking for, you know that. They have their whole Prime Directive thing. I don't understand it, but they really believe in it and they won't change their minds."

"Then we were right to ignore them."

"What? No, Sebastian, listen to me! The Federation is not your enemy. Yes, they can be patronizing and maybe a little high and mighty at times, but they really are doing what they think is right. If you'd just talk to them, you'd see that." But I had already felt something shift in the room. Sebastian's eyes were harder, shielded again as they had been when he had entered. "I don't know what you did with Picard and Worf, but if you have them locked up here then they'll tell you the same thing I have. Just go talk to the Captain; that's all they want, anyway."

Sebastian stood as I finished speaking and I did the same, wishing the room was larger so I could put more space between us.

"This is going to be harder than I'd thought. The Federation has poisoned your mind against us."

"Don't be an idiot, Sebastian! You have to know that what you're saying makes no sense!"

"I'm the Prime Minister, Miss Lawrence. You don't call me an idiot."

He left me staring open-mouthed as he turned around and walked out of the magically reappeared door. It closed seamlessly behind him once more, leaving me suddenly alone.

"You arrogant fool!" I shouted pounding on the metal wall with my fist. "You're going to destroy your entire planet because you're too bigheaded to even consider that you might be wrong!"

I could feel eyes watching me as I drug myself back to the armchair and sank into it, too angry to even try to hide my emotions. Whatever Sebastian was going to do next, it wasn't going to be good.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Night had no meaning in the small cell, but I knew hours had passed because I grew more tired with each passing breath. Afraid to fall asleep, I forced myself to pace the floor, walking only a few steps before having to turn around and start over. It had been hours since Sebastian had left and I had had no other visitors nor any sign of my captors. At first, I had been happy to be left alone but now I would have almost welcomed Sebastian's company again. Maybe if I had another chance to talk to him, I could convince him to at least talk to Picard and Worf, even if he wouldn't listen to me.

As much as I wanted to stay awake, I found it impossible to keep my eyes open. I had not slept well the night before out of anxiety for today, which now seemed quite warranted. Now I wished I had asked Crusher for something to help me sleep better, because I could feel the lost hours creeping in on me. I couldn't afford to sleep now. Whatever my captors had in store for me next, I wanted to be conscious for it. To keep myself occupied, I tried to remove the metal bracelet that still circled my wrist, even though I had known from the first that it was impossible. Eventually, though, I could not fight my heavy eyelids any more. I curled up into a ball on the bed and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The clink of metal made me jerk out of my slumber. As I swung my legs over the side of the low bed in a drowsy panic, I saw a dark figure standing in the doorway, its features obscured by the sleep in my eyes and the bright lights out in the hallway. As soon as I had stood and taken a step forward, the figure retreated and the door had closed again. After rubbing my eyes and shaking the tiredness from my head, I took the few steps necessary to the door and picked up the small tray that had been left for me. It was a bowl and glass of a clear liquid, probably water. Apparently, Sebastian did not plan on letting me starve, even if my meal did consist of a bowl of whitish, thin soup. I returned the food to the floor and sat back down on the bed. I didn't plan of eating any food they gave, especially if they planned on leaving it on the floor like I was some kind of caged animal. I seriously doubted they planned on poisoning me but I still had my pride. Maybe the time had been when I would have been willing to accept their prison food, but not anymore. I didn't care how hungry I got; I wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing me eat their food.

The arrival of the food had woken me up, though, and I didn't try to fall back to sleep. I sat in the armchair, expecting something to happen, either for Sebastian to come back or someone else like Dominic or even for Will to appear, because I knew he had to be working to find me. Nothing happened. The chair was comfortable but it eventually made my butt and legs numb from sitting. When it did, I stood and paced the room once more until that became old. Finally, I just curled up in the bed with my head beneath the blanket and tried to block out the deafening silence.

What seemed like weeks later, a guard returned to collect the still full bowl and glass. I was sitting on the edge of the bed before I realized that the guard did not plan on speaking and was already leaving, his echoing footsteps the only evidence that he had come at all. As I stretched my legs, I began to regret not at least drinking the water. My throat was dry and mouth sticky. I did not think I could handle many more hours without something to drink, even if it was served on the floor. My stomach had gone past knotting, as well, the pangs of hunger having faded into a hollow ache.

I was pretty sure I was sitting somewhere on Risa when more footsteps pulled me out of my half-sleep. Sitting up against the wall, I saw two figures enter the room. I barely had time to blink the sleep out of my eyes before they were standing directly before me. The first I recognized as Dominic. Behind him wore another man wearing what I could only assume was the uniform of a guard.

"Come with me," Dominic said.

I remained seated, looking up at Dominic across the few feet that separated us. "Where am I going?" My voice sounded strange and my tongue felt thick as I spoke, making me wonder how long I had really been in here.

"Don't ask questions. Stand."

When I still didn't obey, Dominic swooped forward with more speed than I would have judged him capable of and grabbed my arm, hoisting me to my feet. I reacted immediately, instinct driving me to twist in his grasp, trying to pull free. Dominic was more capable than I had given him credit, however, as he immediately spun me around and twisted my arm painfully behind my back, his other hand grasping my left wrist.

"Don't try to be a hero, Lawrence," he said in my ear, his voice level except for deeper breathing from our struggle. "If I wanted you dead then you would never have woken up."

"Doesn't Sebastian have something to say about that?" I asked, not sure where I got the idea that talking would be a wise move.

"Of course." Dominic released me and I turned back around to face him, rubbing my right arm where he had grabbed it. I was sure to have bruises. "My loyalty lies with the Prime Minister." He stepped back and held his arm out, indicating that I should lead the way out of the cell. "After you."

I didn't seem to have any choice in the matter, at least not one that involved staying in one piece, so I reluctantly led the way out of the cell. Stepping out of the metal cell into a sterile white hallway, I felt myself breath easier, even though it reminded me of the prison I had spent my teenage years in. I had never been claustrophobic but the close walls of my prison had grated on my mind. As the guard and then Dominic joined me in the hallway, I took in the white tile floor and the smooth metal walls. The ceiling was lit by the same luminescent tiles that made up the ceiling of my own cell. As in my cell, there were no windows out here.

I jerked around when I heard the metal door slam shut again, already associating it with being locked in my cell. I had no way of knowing how long I had been in there, or even if it was day or night. From the outside, the door was obvious, with a control panel to the left and outlines of the sliding metal opening.

"Follow me," Dominic said, brushing past me to lead the way down the corridor. I hesitated for a second before obeying once more. I really had no choice. Whatever Dominic had said earlier, I had never been a hero. While on the Enterprise and in escaping from Sandor the first time, I had done what I had to in order to survive. At the time, there hadn't been any other option. That didn't mean I wasn't quaking in my shoes right now.

Anyway, I told myself as I obediently followed Dominic down the long hallway, I was learning more about my prison. If Will didn't come for me, I would have to find my own way out. But it wouldn't come to that. I knew Will would find a way to get me out of here.

The hallway seemed to go on forever. Doors led off on the left and right and every once in a while we would come across ones that looked similar to my own. It was possible that the Captain and Worf were locked in these rooms as I had been, but I had no way of knowing which ones. The further we walked, the more I began to wonder if I would be able to find my way out of this place on my own.

After passing dozens of doors, Dominic stopped in front of one of them. He pulled a card out of his pocket and swiped it in front of a scanner. Once the light switched to yellow, he pressed his thumb against what was apparently a sensor. Immediately, the door sprung open, revealing a turbolift. Dominic once more waved his arm. "After you."

I lead the way into the lift, followed by Dominic and the guard. As we moved upward, I scanned the lift. It did not look very secure, or at least not as secure as the cell had been. It was possible that, if I were able to shift, I could get out of here. I gave the ceiling a quick one-over and then brought my gaze back down only to see Dominic watching me with a smug smile on his face.

"Don't even think about it unless you want to wake up in half an hour with a headache," he told me. "You didn't think I was stupid, did you? That bracelet will work wherever you go."

I turned away from his gray eyes, instead staring down at the piece of metal that still circled my wrist. So that was what was preventing my shifting. I continued to stare at it, as if expecting it to suddenly look more ominous than a mere bracelet, until I realized Dominic was watching me. I immediately returned my gaze to the door. I was glad to be out of my cell, yes, but this man Dominic frightened me more than silence ever could. I could hardly keep my hands from shaking as the doors opened and the guard gave me a small push out the door. At first, I thought Dominic was playing a trick on me by getting off on the same floor we had left from but apparently they just looked identical because Dominic pushed past me and swiped his security card on a door almost directly across the hallway. This time, he led the way into the room and I followed.

"Here she is, sir," Dominic said as I entered the room. I froze at what I saw inside. Instead of more of the same white and metal I had expected, I found myself inside a comfortable and well-furnished room. Nothing like either my cell or even my quarters on the Enterprise, this room was, well, _nice_. The walls were white but several paintings and even tapestries covered the larger spaces. To my right was a small, round table with chairs on either side, apparently for display as I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to sit there when a large, dark wood table sat directly in front of me, surrounded by red-cushioned chairs and sitting on top of an ornate rug. At the head of the table sat Sebastian Grey.

"Thank you, Dominic," Grey said. "You can go."

Dominic nodded, no expression on his face so I could not tell if he was put out or not. He brushed past me as he left, forcing me to step aside once more to avoid being bowled over. After the door had closed behind him and I had regained my footing, it was just Sebastian and me.

Sebastian stood and approached me, making me to take an unconscious step back. He stopped when he saw this.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said. "I just want to talk to you."

Either because I was tired, hungry, or scared, I couldn't think of a smart reply to this, although I could have pointed out that having been abducted was good reason to be afraid. Whatever I may have said was cut off, however, as I was suddenly struck by a heavenly smell. The table in front of me, I realized, was covered by silver domes, all of them apparently holding some kind of food. As I inhaled the delicious scent a second time, I could feel my dry mouth fill with moisture.

Sebastian must have noticed my interest.

"Please, sit down," he told me, taking my elbow and starting to lead me toward the table. I jerked back.

"I can manage," I told him, rubbing my arm, the same one Dominic had just twisted, before walking down the table to take a seat to the right of where Sebastian had been seated. I sank into the soft seat, not realizing until I had already sat that I was tired. A few seconds later, Sebastian followed and joined me.

"Have some nalpa juice," he said, setting a glass of amber liquid in front of me. This time, I couldn't resist. I drained half the glass before setting it back down on the table.

"What do you want?" I asked Sebastian as I leaned back in the chair, glad that my throat was no longer scratchy and dry. Instead of answering me, though, Grey uncovered one of the platters to reveal some kind of roast.

"That can wait until after dinner. Are you hungry?"

I watched as Grey revealed eight different dishes and served both himself and me. When he had finished, he picked up his fork and, after gesturing for me to do the same, began to eat. I sat still for a few minutes, trying to figure out what his game could possibly be. Eventually, the smell of the feast and the sounds of Sebastian eating overcame my suspicion and I picked up my own fork, stabbing at the roast.

After I'd eaten a few bites, my stomach remembered it was hungry and I dug in, not really caring how ravenous I looked. I punctuated my eating with the occasional swig of nalpa juice. When I emptied the glass, Sebastian refilled it for me, acting like a servant instead of the Prime Minister.

When I finally finished eating, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. Sebastian had long since finished and had been sitting quietly waiting for me. When he saw I was done, he hit a small button on the tabletop. A few seconds later, two women appeared and cleared away the meal in silence, leaving the tabletop empty and gleaming.

"Now we can talk," Sebastian said.

"What do you want with me?"

"I want your help, Tasha. I know you must hate me right now, but if you'll just listen then you'll understand."

"You kidnapped me," I told him. "Why would I help you?"

"Because you're going to agree with me." Sebastian shifted in his seat. "I'm doing this all wrong. Tasha, let's start over. Why don't you tell me why you were helping the Federation?"

I sighed, pushing my hair back and wishing I was somewhere else, anywhere else. "I told you, they asked me for my help. They wanted to negotiate with you but couldn't get through so they brought me here so I could try."

"They brought you here?" Grey repeated. "Did they threaten you?"

"No, of course not! I don't know what you've heard about the Enterprise, but they don't threaten people. I was on the ship about six months ago and I got to know some of them. They're my friends. I didn't do it because I'm afraid of them." The idea was preposterous.

"Some friends," Sebastian muttered.

"What?"

"They must not have the same opinion of you. They left you here."

The part of me that was wondering why I had yet to be rescued dropped a bit lower at his statement, but I answered, "They just haven't figured out how to rescue me yet. They're going to come for me, Sebastian, and for the Captain. You're going to regret this."

"No one's coming for you, Tasha." Sebastian looked almost sorry. "You were mistaken when you said I still held the Captain and the Klingon. I merely reflected their transported beams. They never left the ship."

So it was just me he wanted. "That just means you're going to have to deal with two more angry officers. I don't care how long it's been, he's going to get me out of here."

"I don't think you understood when I said they left you here. The Enterprise is gone. They left eight hours ago."


	8. Chapter 8

****Note: Sorry about the long delay! I started college a few months ago and I've been ridiculously busy. I had this chapter pretty much done so I ended it. Hopefully gonna have another one up in the next week while I'm on break. Thanks for reading and sticking with it!

**Chapter Eight**

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying to you. I just want you to understand your position. The Enterprise left not long after you beamed down."

"No, they kept looking for me, I don't care how many days it's been."

"Days? Tasha, you've only been here for a little over twenty-five hours."

I gripped the sides of the chair, my knuckles turning white. "A day?"

"Just over. I apologized to the Enterprise for the deception, but explained that it was the only way I could get to you, my childhood friend. The Captain was very confused as to why you never mentioned that."

I rested my face in my hand for a second, trying to compose myself. Pushing my hair back in an automatic gesture, I looked back at Sebastian.

"Why would they leave?" I demanded, still refusing to believe him.

"Why wouldn't they? You're wanted for a crime here, and didn't you say how attached they are to their Prime Directive? Once I explained my situation, and how glad we were to have you back, the Captain had no choice but to leave. I told him you would be well looked after and would have justice, even if you are an escaped criminal."

"Well looked after?" I repeated.

"I'm sorry about the cell, but I had to keep you there until I finished some other business. Now, of course, I'll move you to more comfortable quarters."

"Then I'm still a prisoner."

"You don't have to be. If you'll cooperate with us, then we'll forget about the murder and you can go wherever you like, within the compound, of course."

"The compound?"

"That's not important," Sebastian said, waving it away. "I need you to understand why I've done what I have."

I opened my mouth but shut it again. I didn't want to go back to my cell, even if the alternative was staying here and listening to Sebastian. Instead of replying then, I just nodded. He took this as an invitation to continue.

"You think you're friends with the Enterprise, but they left you here alone. They obviously care more about their own rules than helping you, even after you came all this way for them."

"They care about me."

"They used you."

"I don't believe that." Whatever you could say about Riker or Picard, they were not manipulative.

"You're disposable, Tasha. If they lied to you about that, then they probably lied to you about me. You wouldn't believe me yesterday when I told you that we just wanted what was best for Sandor."

"No, I believe you, Sebastian," I cut in. "I know you want to help Sandor, but you're doing it by hurting other people. I don't care if they're Sandorian or human or Federation, they're still people. There are thousands of people on Minos III and you're letting them starve to death."

"It's the Federation, not me. The wormhole is in our sector and legitimately belongs to us. We don't need the Federation to vindicate us, we just want them to pay tribute like everyone else."

"Alright, say you do own the wormhole. How did you expect them to deliver tribute if you wouldn't answer them? The only reason I'm here was to get you to answer their hails." Right now, I could be safely back on Karos VII, if I had only told Will "no." He would have understood, even if he was disappointed. I was the one who couldn't have lived with it.

"We gave the Enterprise very clear instructions on when and where to deliver the tribute," Sebastian continued. "If they had followed our orders, then further contact would not have been necessary."

"Picard said you broke the law by not allowing them to send help to the colony," I threw out, trying to remember anything else that may be helpful.

"_Their_ law, not ours. We had no say in creating the interplanetary code so we are not obligated to follow it."

"What can I say, Sebastian?" I demanded finally, exasperated out of my mind.

"Tasha, you're _from_ here! How can you side with the Federation?"

"They didn't lock me up! And you've done it twice now." Well, that was not exactly true as the Federation _had_ locked me in the brig for a short time. That had been understandable, though, and I had not been treated like an animal.

"That wasn't me! Do you really think I'd lock you up for years like some animal?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"What do you think I am, Tasha?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know what Sebastian Grey was. Sebastian didn't speak for a minute, and then pressed a second button on the table.

"Send in an orlita and two glasses." He released the button and turned his gaze back to me. "I'm not a monster, Tasha. I don't want to hurt you. When I found out you were still alive, I…I felt like I'd gotten my childhood back." He looked up when a woman entered carrying two a tray. She set the decanter and two squat glasses on the table before, at a nod from Sebastian, leaving.

"I know you're been through hell. While I was going to school in Beldon, you were locked up in a government prison going through Gods know what. I don't pretend that our government hasn't had problems, some of them terrible." He lifted the decanter and, after removing the glass stopper, poured the clear liquid into the two glasses. He held one out to me. After hesitating for a second, I took it from his hand, knowing that even if the alcohol might not be the best thing for me right now, it sure as hell sounded good.

"I have to protect my people. I'm the youngest Prime Minister this planet has ever had and I promised when I was elected that I would change things. We've been struggling for years, trying to keep our heads above water. The mining operations and ship production have helped, but we can't establish any kind of presence in this area if we stay submissive to the Federation."

He leaned forward. "Look, I'm the same kid you knew back in Lenore. I don't mean to frighten you, but you have to understand what's going on here. The Enterprise is gone, but they're coming back. When they do, it won't be to Sandor to rescue you but to the wormhole with an armada at their backs. We have to fight back."

I paused for a second, not sure what to say. "They're my friends. The only ones I have, really. Do you really think I can turn against them?"

Sebastian didn't answer my question. Instead, he just said, "I'm your friend, Tasha."

I took a long drink of the orlita, trying to draw courage from it. "Sebastian, you remember when we were kids, when got into that fight in fourth? I thought you were so brave. You came running over to me afterwards, nose all bloody and your lip the size of a nalpa, grinning from ear to ear. Remember what you said to me?"

Sebastian stared ahead, his eyes fixed on a point above my shoulder. I watched as his lips started to move. "Chivalry isn't dead."

I smiled in spite of myself. "You said you hit him because he'd called me a bad name. Chivalry isn't dead."

Sebastian set his glass on the table with a clank and stood abruptly. He held out a hand to me.

"Come on," he said. He wiggled his finger expectantly. I slowly set my glass down on the table and took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. "I want to show you something."

Sebastian led me down the sterile hallway, his black shoes echoing back and forth through the corridor.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to show you something."

I didn't answer for a second, continuing to walk silently beside Sebastian.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

"I want you on my side."

I was about to tell him that wasn't going to happen, but I stopped myself. I didn't know what he was going to show me or what would happen after that, but I didn't think it was a good idea to get on his bad side by giving him an unequivocal "no." The least I could do was listen to what he had to say. If I could get his guard down, then maybe I would have a chance of getting away. The fact that he was actually making an effort to be nice to me now didn't hurt, either.

We continued down the hallway in silence, the occasionally flickering lights doing nothing to counteract the entirely alarming space. The doors on either side of us were still silent but I couldn't help but wonder if other prisoners occupied them, trapped as I had been just an hour before. Being inside the cell had been terrifying enough but if I had realized just how sterile the outside was, I would have been even more terrified by the fact that passersby wouldn't even know the room was occupied.

"How many people do you have down here?" I asked when I couldn't contain my building horror anymore. It must have shown in my voice because Sebastian quickly turned to look at me.

"This isn't a prison." Seeing my incredulous look, he continued, "We have some cells, yes, but the primary function of this compound is not imprisonment. Your cell is located in the only cell block."

I wasn't sure whether or not I believed him. The place didn't look like I would imagine a normal prison would but it definitely looked like the "rehabilitation center" I had been sent to. Whatever they chose to call themselves, their main purpose was to keep people in.

"What is it, then?" I asked. I wasn't sure how long Sebastian would go on wanting us to be eleven-year-old buddies again so I had decided to make the most of it while I could. It was entirely possible that once he was done with this little tour that he would put me back in my cell and leave me there for another day, if that was really how long I had been here.

"It's a rehabilitation center."

A shout of laughter emerged from me before I could stop it and a few trailing snorts followed. Sebastian stopped to stare at me and I followed suit a few steps ahead, turning around to face him when he started to speak.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"It's a nice name," I told him. "How'd you come up with it?"

"It seemed fitting," Sebastian answered, sounding wary and watching me with frowning eyes.

"I'm sure it is. In fact, I'm sure your techniques have gotten a lot better over the years. Back when I was in one of these, you were still using gunpowder weapons and keypads. Now you're handing out bracelets." I held up my right wrist for a second. I hadn't forgotten the evil thing was still there, even though it was comfortable and fit like a second skin.

"The restraint is just a precaution, I'll have it removed in the next few days."

"Don't lie to me," I told him. "Gods!" I turned away from him and pushed my hair back from by forehead. "You almost had me. All that 'I'm your friend, Tasha' and 'Chivalry isn't dead, Tasha.' Sure, you're an evil Prime Minister, but you almost had me."

"I'm not ashamed of what we're doing here, if that's what you're getting at," Sebastian said. "I've been working on establishing this center for the past eight years, my entire political career. I admit it is still a work in progress, but it is still the most revolutionary institution to ever be attempted."

I shook my head in wonder. "You…dirty hypocrite," I said, unable to express myself as eloquently as he seemed to be able to at a moment's notice. "You said that you'd never put me in a cage. What do you call this?"

"Freedom," he said. He took a step toward me and I retreated, but he just stepped up to a door and pressed his thumb into the sensor. "Recognize Sebastian Grey," he stated clearly, his eyes boring into mine. A metallic male voice answered, "Recognized Sebastian Grey." The door swung open and Sebastian stepped back. "After you. You wanted to see it."

Hesitating for a second, my gaze wavered between Sebastian and the doorway, through which I couldn't see much besides an equally white wall far across an empty space. Finally, when I couldn't take it any more, I stepped inside. And let out a gasp at what I saw.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter Nine_**

The inside of the room was arranged in what looked like one giant obstacle course. Tunnels, rope walls, hanging rings, and countless other bizarre contraption populated the room. What drew my attention, though, were the people using it. Maybe "people" was a bit too generous of a term, because traveling through the course at breakneck speeds were the strangest assortment of animals I had ever seen. More than they, they never stayed the same for long, constantly shifting from one creature to another.

I turned around to face Sebastian, my mouth wide open.

"What is this?" I managed to ask. Instead of answering, he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around, letting me watch for a few more minutes. The action continued as the people, or animals, constantly shifted from one form to another. The blur of action slowly made more sense and, as I watched, it transformed into a complicated but structured regimen.

As I continued to gape, Sebastian came up beside me and waved at one of the people, currently a tiger. He bounded toward us for a few strides before transforming and walking upright. Turning back to the scene behind him, he shouted, "Take five, people!" and then stopped a few front of Sebastian and offered a two fingered salute.

"Prime Minister," he said, breathing heavily as he tried to speak normally. Behind him, the various animals slowly shifted back into Sandorians and straggled over to several water containers along the wall. "I didn't know you were scheduled to visit today."

"I wasn't," the Prime Minister said. "I'm giving a tour. Mr. Otten, meet Tasha Lawrence." I stopped gawking around the room and paid more attention as I was introduced. "Tasha, this is Rick Otten, one of our trainers here."

Otten extended his hand and I took it. "Nice to meet you," he said. His hand was calloused and his entire demeanor gave the impression of action. His hair was cut short, although that was a choice from his recent shifting, but muscles that couldn't be faked rippled under his skin. He stood at about six feet, another personal choice, although, like me, he might have just stuck to what he was born with. He looked to be in his lower thirties.

"You, too," I said. I glanced around me once more. "What's… I'm sorry, what's going on here?" I asked.

Otten opened his mouth but Sebastian was faster. "Mr. Otten, why don't you show Miss Lawrence around? I have some things I really need to get to."

"Of course," Otten said immediately. "I'd be happy to. Miss Lawrence?" He gestured with his arm that I was to lead the way, although I wasn't sure to where.

"I'll send someone for you in a while," Sebastian promised before disappearing out the doors. I watched the metal doors slide shut behind him and slowly turned back to Otten.

"This is one of our smaller training facilities," Otten said, taking a few steps forward and waiting for me to follow. When I fell into step beside him, he continued. "The larger ones are on the lower levels but there are another two this size next door." He gestured to the corner of the room where the people had spread out from around the water dispenser.

"These are some of our newer recruits so they're just doing the elementary exercises. Once they've mastered this, we'll move the teams to the larger gyms to compete against each other."

I watched as the men and women sipped their water and boisterously slapped each other on the backs. One of the men, who looked around twenty, was pulled into a headlock and immediately shifted into a falcon that flapped a few feet away before turning back into the grinning man.

"Ivans!" Otten yelled, leaving me standing where I was and striding across the floor. The young man jerked his head up and then bowed it again.

"Yes, sir?"

"You know the rules, no shifting while on break."

"I know, Otten. I'm sorry."

"And next time don't do a falcon. Too big to be sure of escape and too small to be any use in a fight."

Ivans grinned. "Yes, sir."

Otten turned back to me and waved me over. I cautiously approached, still too confused to do anything else.

"They're new but they learn fast," Otten said when I came up beside him again. He looked over the crowd of about two dozen people, smiling a little, like a cross between a proud father and a commanding officer.

"I don't get it," I finally said. "What's all this for? Where do you all come from?"

"You're new," Otten told me. "It's weird at first. You must be important if the Prime Minister brought you himself so I assumed you knew what we did here."

I shook my head. "You're prisoners here, like me. Why are you…playing along?"

Otten shook his head. "You've got it all wrong," he said. "I know, it looks bad," he added as I opened my mouth. "But you have to understand, this is so much better than what we had before. Here, we're free to move around where and when we like. There are rec centers and a town hall and we even have a park. If you'd seen it before—"

"I did see it before," I cut in. "Not this one, but I know what it was like. And I don't think being locked in a cell with this thing," I held up my wrist to show the silver bracelet, "on my wrist is that much of an improvement."

"That's just at the beginning," Otten explained, his voice level. "They don't want you panicking and shifting before you get a chance to look around. We have to wear them when we're not in one of the training rooms, but when we're here we can shift as much as we like.

I shook my head again, looking around the room in wonder. True, these people didn't look like prisoners. Actually, they looked downright happy to be here. But being able to shift for a few hours at a time didn't make up for having to wear these things the rest of the week.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"A few months," Otten told me. "They moved me here from a camp near Lampton. I'm good with people and they tend to do what I say so they put me in charge of some of the new recruits." He leaned closer, losing his professional voice. "I know what you're going through, we've all felt it. These are the same people who've locked us up all these years and you don't think they can change. But it's different now. Grey is really changing things."

"What's he doing this for, though?" I asked. "When I was here, they told us not to shapeshift but now you've got this whole routine down. What for?"

"He's changing everything," Otten said. "He doesn't say a lot to the public about this place because people are still scared of us. But you've seen what else he's done, he's changing all of Sandor."

I raised my eyebrows. Data had said Sebastian had accomplished a lot since he had been elected, but hearing it from Otten was a different matter.

"What has he done?"

Otten frowned. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"Offworld," I told him. When he opened his mouth, I cut in. "It's a long story," I told him. "But is he really as great as everyone says he is?" I couldn't believe it. Grey had kidnapped me, stolen my ability to shift, and forced the Enterprise to leave me behind. I was trying not to take it personally, but I found it hard to believe that someone who did that could really be as great of a leader as everyone was saying he was. Also, there was the small matter of the wormhole and impending war.

"I may be biased, but yes, he has," Otten said, his voice carrying complete conviction. "I was locked up when I was twenty, and stayed in there for fifteen years. The year Grey was elected, he starting bringing people here. Just a few at first, I guess he didn't want people to notice too fast."

"So this is all his idea?" I asked. Sebastian had seemed at home in the facility, had spoken of it as his, but I found it surprising that he had managed to build all this in the three years since he had gained power.

"Yeah." Otten shrugged. "I'll be honest with you, I don't know why he did it. I'm not stupid, I know he wants us for something. But right now, we're better off than we've ever been."

"But you're still prisoners," I pointed out.

Otten just shook his head. "Of course. Like I said, I'm not blind to what's going on here. But it's so much better than anything we could have dreamed of even five years ago."

"But what do they want with me?" I asked.

Otten just shrugged again. "I have no idea. But look, we're about to head down to the mess hall for lunch, you want to join us?"

Although I wasn't hungry, I did not see any other option. I wasn't sure whether Otten was my guard or just a friendly guide, but going with him seemed like a good idea. The fact that Grey had left me here without any guard made me start to believe him, despite everything else telling me not to do so. The way these men and women were acting, this wasn't a prison, but their home.

I expected Otten to lead us out, but instead he and his small groupe headed toward the wall where they opened a drawer. As I watched, mouth open, they each drew out a silver clasp like mine and snapped it around their wrist. When Otten came back up to me, he acted to completely normal that I didn't even ask about it. Instead, he led his small group and me back into the hall and turned right.

The uniform whiteness of the corridor was still disconcerting but, from the way my companions were laughing and talking, they didn't agree. In fact, they looked perfectly at ease. Thinking back to how I had felt last time I was on Sandor, I could find no similarity to that quiet, terrified atmosphere.

When Otten lead us through one of the nondescript white doors, I stopped in my tracks. The clatter of dishes and chatter of voices was shocking after the silence of the hallway. Four long tables held maybe two hundred men and women while more milled around the vats of food lined up along the right wall. The lighting here was reduced to a yellow glow instead of the harsh white of the rest of the compound, mimicking the sunlight on Sandor.

As I stared, I realized that the group I had entered with was already heading for the line. I hurried to catch up, breathing in the strangely familiar smells. When I made it to the front of the line, I found a complete buffet of traditional Sandorian meals exactly like the ones my mother used to cook me. I'd managed to find some decent Sandorian meals after leaving Sandor, but it had been over fifteen years since I had tasted anything close to what these dishes smelled like.

"You're holding up the line, kid."

I turned around to find a man of around forty-five waiting behind me. I mumbled an apology and grabbed a plate. After I'd dished up, I glanced around, trying to find some order to the seating arrangements. Luckily, I was saved having to make a decision by Otten appearing at my shoulder.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I'm sitting out here if you'd like to join me."

"Yeah, thanks." I followed him over to the middle of one of the tables and smiled when he introduced me to three men seated across from us. After the stress of the last two days, the scene felt surreal. I listened in on the chatter around me as I tasted the warm food, letting the conversations around me drown out the panic that had never left the back of my brain. For some reason, the busy activity around me was actually calming. If all these people were comfortable here, didn't that mean something? I tried to block out the fact that we were all wearing the metal dampers.

I looked up when I heard a lull in the conversation around me, and found Otten and the three other men looking at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

"Where'd they transfer you from?" the man I was pretty sure was named Jordan asked.

"Oh, I just got here. I wasn't on Sandor."

I watched the three men's eyes widen. Apparently not much had changed since the last time I had been here, when people rarely left Sandor, and shapeshifters almost never.

"Where were you?"

I shifted uncomfortably. I had just met these men and, although they seemed to be in the same boat as I was, I couldn't be sure that I could trust them. It couldn't hurt telling them a little, though.

"I was working on a little planet called Karos VII." When none of them seemed to recognize the name, I elaborated. "It's a failed Federation colony a few days from here."

"How'd you end up there?"

In spite of myself, I grinned. "That is a _long_ story," I told him. "Way too long. But what about you guys? How did you get here?"

They immediately shrugged and returned to their food.

"I was up in Paria, been there for a while," the youngest of the group said. "About a year ago, they told us they were moving us. I figured it was to another camp like that one, but then I found myself here."

"Just like that? They didn't tell you anything about it?"

"A few days in, they gave us a tour," he said. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it while he continued speaking. "They pretty much said that we'd be staying here and make ourselves at home. I couldn't believe it at first, it seemed too good to be true. They put a lot of money into this place."

I looked around at the different faces, trying to understand the bizarre calmness.

"So you didn't asked why they were doing this? Or _anything_?"

"The thing you have to understand about this place is that they don't give us answers," Otten intervened. "Like I told you, we're not thrilled to be here. We tried to find out what this is or even where, but there's no way of knowing. Cort's been here the longest and he doesn't know anything more than me."

The fourth man at the table nodded. He was a few years older than me, maybe in his upper thirties. "I think I was one of the first, I came three years ago," he said. He smiled at me. "I know what you're thinking, we're all a bunch of turn-coats. But you'll get used to it."

I looked between them, trying to sort my feelings. "I get it," I told them finally. "I was in one of these for years, from thirteen to seventeen, I know how you feel. But… isn't there anything we can do?"

Now Cort looked at me with something like pity. "You can't get out. This place is nicer, but it's way more secure. You can't even see outside."

I sighed and slumped down on the bench.

"So that's it then? You just hang out here?"

"Seriously, cheer up," Cort told me, a bit of bite in his voice. "This is our life, we deal with it. We've built a community here and we're proud of it."

I looked up at him again. He was right, I could see it in their eyes. The last time I had been in a place like this, we'd all given up, not just on escaping or anything like that, but on even living. We just did what we were told because that was the way it was. Here, though, it wasn't like that. It seemed almost natural. Maybe they were at home.

I felt like an ass.

"I'm sorry," I told him, and then glanced around at the others. "I didn't mean that you guys had given up, you seem to have it together a lot more than I did. It's been a long day." I rubbed my eyes. It had been a very long day, or days. I had been in that cell for what seemed like a week, and then talking with Sebastian had been no less exhausting.

"I didn't mean to go off on you. Everyone goes through it." Cort nodded at me. "Maybe someone can give you a tour around after dinner."

"I'll do it," Otten said. "I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to look out for her."

"I'd do it, but I've got practice," the youngest man broke in.

"Practice?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Jortball. We've got around three teams on this level so the games are pretty boring but it's nice to be playing again."

"You play Jort?" I asked. For some reason that stunned me more than anything else.

"There's a court in the park."

I laughed. "What _is_ this place?"

Over the next hour, Otten showed me. After we left the mess hall, he took me down the main hallway and into what he called the "Town Hall." It was a circular room with benches lined up all around a central stage. According to Otten, this was where the residents, as he called them, held meetings and discussed anything that seemed important.

"It actually works out really well. There's only about three hundred of us here, so we don't have trouble with people getting overlooked."

"You all meet here?" I asked, taking a few steps into the large room and looking around in awe.

"Not very often," Otten said. "It works well but we don't need it very much."

"They actually let you guys meet up?"

Otten laughed. "Yes, things have changed. We actually get to make a lot of our own decisions. Mealtimes, what to do with our park and common rooms, that kind of stuff."

"Cort was right…" I muttered. "You did build a real community."

Otten smiled. "We did the best we could. It was all set up when I got here, but they make you feel welcome. You'll get used to it."

I hoped I wouldn't have to. After the meeting room, Otten showed me the pool, the rec center where they could work out, and then the park. I realized that the hallways didn't go on forever, they actually seemed to be laid-out in a square. Cort had been right when he'd said they couldn't see outside, the park was enclosed in the same white walls and ceiling as the rest of the place. The inside though… I'd have thought we were on the Enterprise's holodeck if I hadn't known better. As it was, the fact that they had actually managed to bring the outdoors inside was incredible.

"They stopped short of a river, but we didn't complain," Otten said, grinning. I glanced at him and then back at the grass field in front of me, punctuated by trees and flowers. A few groups of people walked across the field, and I saw two passing a Jortball.

"It's nice now, it usually gets crowded in the evenings," Otten volunteered. I turned back to face him and he lead us back into the hallway. It seemed even more alien after the greenery of the park. Otten didn't seem to notice, though, so I didn't comment. They had all obviously gotten used to this place so I wasn't going to keep complaining about it.

"That's about all there is to see," Otten said. "You already saw the training facilities and there's nothing else on this floor."

"What's on the other floors?"

"I've been to the other training facilities and sickbay, but that's it. We can't use the lifts."

That explained a lot, I thought. "So where to now?"

"The common room. Well, there's a few of them. I like the one down here."

"Do you spend a lot of time there?" I asked, trying to get a feel for the place.

"In the afternoons. I meet up with some guys to play ball sometimes in the rec centers but the common rooms are nice to relax after training."

"What's the training for?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. We go through different exercises, at first just to learn how to shift quickly, make sure we get the right thing, that kind of stuff. But now I'm teaching stuff like what you saw in the training facility."

"So you're teaching them how to run around through obstacle courses? That's not helpful…"

"I go along with it. It's nice to actually be able to shift."

I wriggled my shoulders a little. I knew what he meant, and I was getting antsy from staying in one form for so long. It was my natural one so I could stay in it forever without any pain, unlike other forms, but I didn't like it. I couldn't fight the urge to change at least _something_.

"What's wrong?"

"I just can't stand not shifting. I've been in this form for almost two days, it's getting weird."

"You can't go two days without shifting?" Otten asked. He looked baffled.

"You know how it gets, even in your natural form it feels weird. I'd settle for changing my hair."

"Sometimes when we get breaks from training, we don't shift for a week and I'm fine with it."

I stared at him. "I guess I'm not used to it."

Otten stopped in front of a door but didn't open it.

"You're different," he said. "The people who come here, they usually haven't shifted in years and it takes them a while to get the hang of it."

"I told you, I was away."

"I can tell. People usually can't believe it but you can tell they're happy to be gone from wherever they were. But you look like you can't get used to the idea of being locked in."

I pushed my hand through my hair, almost shifting it longer before I remembered in the nick of time. "I've got to get out of here, Otten," I finally said.

"Why did Grey bring you here himself?" Otten asked.

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."

"Alright then."

"I'm sorry! You've been great and I know we're all in the same boat, but I can't tell you. It's…complicated." I wasn't sure why I didn't want to tell Otten what was going on, just that I didn't want Grey to get any more leverage on me than he already had. Better I kept to myself.

"Whatever it is, don't drag us into it," Otten said. "You look like you've had a rough deal, but we don't want to get involved."

His eyes were hard and I could tell he was serious. He didn't want anything that would disrupt his life here.

"I like you," Otten added, "but you have to understand that there's no way out of here. People have tried, and the new ones sometimes get everyone riled up about it and then they get their hopes crushed again. It's not worth it."

"I'll do it on my own, then," I told him.

He nodded. "Good luck."

He tapped the door pad and walked inside. He was right, the common room did look comfortable. The area was full of couches and chairs and little tables with different games set up. I saw some people in the corner playing a game very like what the humans called pool. It looked nice, actually. After Otten's warning, though, I couldn't help but think that maybe this was what made everyone so complacent. It was too nice here, and they couldn't imagine living in the real world.

I found a seat in an armchair and watched the activity around me. There were maybe forty people throughout the room and I remember that Otten had said there were several of these rooms spread across the level. It sounded like the level was entirely self-contained, except for a sickbay. I wasn't sure where they all slept but it had to be around here somewhere if they couldn't use the lifts. Grey had said that he would assign me quarters.

Speaking of which, I wasn't sure where Grey had gone. He had dropped me off with Otten but I'd gotten the impression that he or someone else would be back for me at some point. I didn't fit in here and they knew it. I just hoped I wouldn't be seeing Dominic again soon.

"Hey, Tasha , right?"

I looked up to see the young man from dinner, the one whose name I'd forgotten.

"Yeah. Sorry, what was your name?"

"Brick." He sat down in the chair across from mine. "Otten said he gave you the tour, what'd you think?"

I didn't answer for a second. "It's…incredible. This place is huge."

"Did he show you the park?"

"Yeah. It's unreal, I can't believe they built all this for you."

"For us, you mean. And I know, the one in Paria was awful compared to this. I've been here a year so I'm getting used to it, but I still sometimes think it's some joke and they'll send us back."

"Was Paria that bad?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It wasn't worse than an average prison, I guess. Once they got the dampers, they cut back on security a bit and got rid of the therapists."

"They don't have those anymore?" I demanded.

"Not for a few years."

I leaned back in my chair. "That's something, I guess," I muttered to myself. As much as I didn't want to admit it, this place was better than any other prison I had seen before. No matter why Grey did it or what else he was doing, he had made life better for these people. That didn't change the fact that it was still a prison, of course, but it showed that he at least understood what the other facilities were like.

"Where were you at?"

"Mayfair," I told him. "But that was over ten years ago, I'm sure it's changed since then. If it's even open… Have they closed all the other ones?"

Brick shrugged. "We get people coming in every few months. Cort says it's slowed down again, back to how it was when he first came."

"Maybe they've already brought all of them here. There's so _many_ though."

Brick laughed. "This is just one level, there's at least two more. We figure there's at least a thousand of us."

I stared at him. When Otten had told me there were around three hundred, I had been stunned. There hadn't been more than fifty at the facility I was at, and I had the impression that there weren't many of them. A thousand shapeshifters, though.

"Do people know about this place?"

Brick wrinkled his forehead. "You keep asking questions," he laughed. "We don't leave here. Ever. The only news we get is when they send us the weekly holocasts. You're too curious. You want to play?"

He nodded over at the pool tables.

"Sure. But it's been _years_, I have to warn you."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter Ten**_

I was in the middle of a rather intense game of pool when the room suddenly went quiet. I was in the middle of spectacularly missing a shot, so I waited until the ball had definitely missed the pocket to look up and see what had happened. By the time I did, the two uniformed guards were already halfway across the room and walking toward me.

"Miss Lawrence, please come with us."

Uh oh. I glanced around at Brick and Jordan, who had joined us. They look a little concerned, but not particularly worried. That was a good sign; from the way they acted it didn't seem as if people suddenly just went missing after being taken away by guards. Okay then.

I handed my stick to Jordan and followed them outside into the hallway.

"You've been assigned quarters in the women's B-block," they said. "Room 14B. Curfew begins at 2200 but it's been requested that you retire early."

I stared at them. "Oh. Okay, yeah." I glanced up and down the corridor. "Where's B-block at?"

They pointed down to the right. "Around the corner to the right. Men's are on the left."

"Thanks." I frowned at them. They looked…normal. They were wearing the grey uniforms common to military personnel, but other than that, they didn't look particularly dangerous. When I was a teenager, the guards had been terrifying. Not just in that they were armed and dangerous, but that they had genuinely seemed to hate everyone they were guarding.

"How can I tell which room's which?"

They glared at me. "The signs?" one of them finally asked.

I glanced at the door to the common room we had just left. Written on the doorframe above the door, small letters spelled out "Common Room 3."

"Ohhh. Thanks…"

I glanced between them and then turned down the hallway and walked in the direction they had pointed. Now that they pointed it out, I noticed the next door was labeled "Common Room 2." Walking down the hallway was still spooky, even though I now knew at least a little of what was behind the doors. This level, at least, seemed fairly straightforward. Somewhere in this place, though, I knew there was a cell block and who knew what else. I wasn't going to start singing its praises just yet.

The hallway came to an end and I turned to the right. About halfway down the hallway, the only door on the right appeared, labeled "Women's Block." Inside, I found another two hallways, one with a B posted above. Peering down the long hallway, I got the strange impression that they were trying to make it homey. Instead of the white metal in the hallway, this floor was covered in a tan carpet that matched the walls. The doors were still nondescript, but it reminded me of the Enterprise, which I never would have considered an improvement before. I explored down the hallway until I came to the door marked 14B, the second door from the end. It slid open when I pressed the button and I stepped inside, glancing around me quickly to see if this was actually a real living quarter or some strange trick. It was real, from what I could tell. Two beds were lined up end to end on the far wall with what looked like two dressers on the right wall. When I stepped forward, the door behind me closed and I noticed another door to my right, leading to a bathroom. A couch with an armchair and coffee table along with a round table with two chairs completed the room.

It looked like someone had tried to make it homey in theory, but when transferred to the room it came out looking mismatched to the rest of the level. Even the common room had been more comfortable than this. The sizable dressers and the comfortable looking chairs made it far too permanent and the matching everything gave it an almost frightening institutional feel.

Despite this, I sighed and sat on one of the beds. Both were made with tightly tucked blankets, but one held a bright orange pillow and a stuffed animal, one of the only things that actually made the place look lived in. The other one had to be mine. I lay back on it, closing my eyes tightly against the glow of light from the ceiling. Everything today had happened too fast. The way everyone I'd talked to accepted the place and considered it home had started to blur my original conviction that it was a house of horrors. I didn't put any stock into anything Grey said, whether or not he believed he was doing the right thing with either the blockade or this place didn't matter. He was wrong. But Otten's and Brick's and Cort's feelings actually did matter, and they considered this a blessing. I knew anything was better than the camps they had been living in, but it was more than that. Being moved here was the absolute best case scenario for them, there was no thought of being able to leave or find a life outside.

It came down to the fact that they had no hope. I realized that was the genius of this place. It gave them the best they could hope for while absolutely eliminating any chance of escaping or imagining something better. Which brought up my problem: how did I get out of a place designed to be unbreachable? Everything I'd ever done, I had done with the ability to shapeshift. I'd always known that if I got in a bad situation, I could shift and everything would probably work out. Here, though, I had to rely on just myself. It was a frightening thought.

Whatever I did, I had to do it soon. I doubted Grey would let me just sit here for long, pretending I belonged. He wanted me for something. He had said he simply wanted me on his side, wanted me to understand that he was doing the right thing and that my place was here. What he hoped to get out of me once I started to trust him was anyone's guess. He had to know that I knew next to nothing about the Federation and the Enterprise so he couldn't hope to find out tactical information out of me.

The not knowing was killing me. I stood up and paced from the door and back. The room was bigger than my cell but at least there I knew where I stood… Here I was being treated like I was normal. Well, normal for the shapeshifter population. I didn't know what was scarier, that Grey would continue to try to wheedle or threaten something out of me or that he would just leave me here. Forever. I didn't belong here. None of these people did, but me least of all.

I was working myself up into a panic when the door slid open. I spun around and found myself looking into the surprised face of a woman. She blinked a few times before her face cleared.

"You're my new roommate."

I nodded. "I guess so." She didn't say anything else so I held out my hand. "I'm Tasha."

"Keerthana," she answered, shaking my hand. "I forgot they said you were moving in today, I would have been here."

"It's fine," I shrugged.

"Did they move your stuff in yet?" the woman asked. "I didn't have a lot but if you have anything you want to put out, it could use some decoration."

"I don't really have anything," I said.

"Nothing? Nah, I get it. When I moved in, I didn't want to bring anything with me either, but they made me pack up what I had."

"How long have you been here?" I asked. The room didn't look very lived in, but I wasn't sure how much these people actually owned. I'd lived on Karos VII for four months and hadn't managed to accumulate much more than furniture.

"Two months." She paused. "If you need a tour or something I can give you one, but you probably want to just settle in."

"Yeah, I think so," I told her. I glanced around the room. She had been right, there really were no decorations or personal effects, not even books. I wondered what she did with her time.

"The guards mentioned something about a curfew?" I asked and I tested out the couch.

"From 2200 to 0600," Keerthana told me, taking a seat in the armchair. "The doors lock automatically, so make sure you get back in time."

"How do I know what time it is?" I asked the first question that popped into my head.

"There's consoles around the level, they have the time and notices for the day."

"Right." I looked down at my feet, not sure what to say next. More than anything else, I wanted to be alone right now. Luckily, Keerthana didn't seem that interested in conversation. When I looked up, she was curled up in the chair reading something from a pad, although I wasn't sure where she had gotten it from. I let her read in silence and instead tried to think myself out.

I wasn't sure whether I should believe Grey about the Enterprise leaving. I knew they wouldn't abandon me here, but they couldn't hang around Sandor forever. The situation had seemed dire, especially if Sandor's new allies got involved, and they may have been needed at the wormhole. And Grey had been right, I was technically a criminal wanted by the Sandorian government. According to the laws here, they had the right to keep me here and, according to the Prime Directive, the Enterprise had to let them. But would they really let that be the end of it? I couldn't believe it.

Either way, sitting around and waiting for rescue wasn't an option. I needed to find a way out. Once I made it out of this building, I could try to blend into whatever the closest city was until I found a way off the planet. It wasn't much of a plan but it would have to do for now.

"I'm gonna get some sleep," Keerthana said, setting her pad down on the coffee table. "I have an early shift at the mess tomorrow."

"Oh, okay." I hadn't even thought that maybe people here had jobs. It made sense, though, it seemed like they ran the place pretty much by themselves. "I should get some sleep, too."

"There's a shower in the bathroom and you should find some clothes in your dresser."

I looked over at the dresser, paying attention to it for the first time. "I doubt they have anything for me…" I said as I opened the one closest to the bed, only to find a few shirts neatly folded in the top drawer. They all looked like t-shirts, two black and two green. The next drawer held a few pairs of grey pants. I'd noticed that everyone seemed to be wearing the same type of clothes and this explained it.

"It's kind of weird, they had the same stuff for me when I came here," Keerthana said from behind me. "They're pretty decent, though. I'm gonna brush my teeth then you can get cleaned up if you like. Feel free to turn on the lights when you're done."

She disappeared into the bathroom and I turned my attention back to the clothing in the drawers. It was another one of the little things that freaked me out about this place. I'd been here for about a day and a half by my estimates, which I knew was enough time to find me a room and put some clothes in a drawer, but it still creeped me out. I found a pair of pajamas out of the bottom drawer and inspected them. In a weird way, they actually looked something like the clothes I created when I shifted.

When Keerthana finished, took a shower and climbed into bed, making sure to first put the clothes I had brought with me underneath the bed. Yes, they were dirty and I'd been wearing them for a while, but they were the only link I had to Enterprise. Something about this place made me feel like they were trying to erase all link to anything I knew before. That, at least, was something I could fight.

I woke up the next morning when Keerthana left for work, just after the lifting of curfew. After she'd left, I explored the room a bit. I found a pad in my dresser like the one Keerthana had been reading the night before. I imagined they must be standard issue. Schedules for things like meal plans and the rec center were already loaded on the pad and I found I had access to a library with different books and publications. The sections marked Work and Training were empty. At least they didn't expect me to work, or take part in those ridiculous training exercises. That still baffled me. Training shapeshifters how to shapeshift better, the idea itself was preposterous. What could they use shapeshifters for, anyway?

I was still pondering the question when the door opened. I imagined it was too early for Keerthana to be back and, when I turned around, I found two guards in my doorway. They weren't the two who had told me about my quarters the day before and I wondered how many there were here. I hadn't seen any in the hallways or anywhere else, but that didn't mean they weren't there, or watching.

"Mister Grey wants to see you," one of them said.

"Right." I followed them out the door and down the B hallway. Grey had told me yesterday that he would send someone for me later. This was much later than I had expected, and I wasn't sure what he would have to say. He had done just about everything he could to persuade me yesterday, I didn't think he could do anything else to convince me that he was in the right.

The guards led me around two corners and to a lift, probably the same one I had taken yesterday. Now that I realized the compound was laid out in a square, it made more sense. I could probably find my way around now, as long as I paid attention. The signs above all the door helped.

We were in the lift for just a few seconds before the door opened. Again, the hallway looked just the same, except that this one actually had more people walking through it. A few of them glanced curiously at us as we exited the lift, making me wonder if they usually brought shapeshifters up here or if I was a special case. I didn't have long to ponder this because the guards lead me down the hallway just a little ways before stopping at a door and pushing a few numbers on a keypad.

The door opened and the guards backed up a few steps, pausing to give me a small push inside before stalking off down the hallway. After glancing behind me again, I stepped into the almost empty room. I turned to my left and found myself facing Sebastian sitting behind a large desk, his eyes fixed on a personal computer. He looked up when I took another step into the room.

"Please sit down," he said, nodding at a single chair in front of his desk. I slid into it, still glancing around the room. It was mostly bare and didn't have any personal effects, making me think Sebastian didn't use it much. Considering he had a planet to run, I doubted he spent much time in this facility at all, wherever we were.

Sebastian tapped at his screen a few times before pushing it to the side and crossing his fingers. He was just as formally dressed as he had been yesterday, making me feel even worse about the grey and green outfit I was wearing. Who had picked such an awful color anyway?

"How have you been adapting?" Sebastian finally asked.

I stared at him. Had he really asked me down here to make small talk?

"It's horrible," I answered bluntly.

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "I was hoping you'd have started to accept it more," he said.

"Accept it?" I asked. "Sebastian…" I bit my tongue. I couldn't fall into the mode of thinking I could say whatever I wanted. I didn't have a clue what he planned on doing with me and I didn't want to back myself into a corner while I figured it out.

"Don't stop now."

I paused for a second to find a more neutral tone. "I don't get it. Everyone seems…happy here."

"And you think that's a bad thing?"

"I just don't know how you did it."

He steepled his fingers and looked at me over them. "I spent years planning this place out before I ever got the chance to actually build it. Everything about it is state of the art."

"That's not what I meant," I told him, angry at him for intentionally misunderstanding. "You've brainwashed them so they all think they have it so great here. They don't think they're in prison."

"When did you turn so cynical?"

I didn't respond for a second, taken aback. "Sorry?"

"You're convinced this is all part of some sinister plan. Don't you think it's possible that I'm actually trying to help these people?"

"Are you?"

Sebastian gazed at me thoughtfully for a second. "Things have gotten so much better for them. You realize that, right?" I grudgingly nodded and he continued. "It's so much better than it was ten years ago. I know you're angry at this entire planet, Tasha, but you have to realize that things are different now."

"It's not…"I trailed off. I was going to say that it wasn't enough, but was that really what I thought? I had come back without expecting anything to have changed and instead I had found a completely different world. And it hadn't made me any happier. If anything, I had been angrier at Sebastian than I had been at the people who'd locked me up in the first place.

"Yes?"

I looked up to see Sebastian watching me and I knew my thoughts were written plainly across my face.

I took a deep breath and swallowed my pride. "I admit that it's better than it was," I told him. "That's obvious. But they're still locked up in here."

"Yes. I'm afraid that will take more than myself to change." He sighed. "But I'm glad you at least realize that we've tried to do right by these people. Now, I'm sure you're wondering about your friends on the Enterprise."

I blinked at him. Of course I'd been dying for any news, but I wasn't going to ask him for it. I still wasn't sure if he had lied to me about them leaving in the first place, as logical as he had made it sound. I couldn't help but wonder why, if they were still here, they hadn't come for me yet.

"They've joined the invading force at the wormhole. The Federation is making no more attempts contacting us and is preparing for war. I'm sorry, but they aren't coming for you."

I did my best to keep my face neutral. "So what do you plan on doing with me?"

"You'll have to stay here for the time being. I'll be busy and you're still a fugitive."

"So why don't you put me in a real prison?" I asked before I could think better of it. Sebastian's constant references to my status as a fugitive were wearing on me. I had done nothing wrong.

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "I don't think you'd find it as comfortable as my compound," he said smoothly. "And I need you somewhere I can keep an eye on you."

"For how long?" It was the question that had been tearing at me. I was going to do everything I could to get out of this place but I couldn't help but question what Sebastian planned for me. Did he really intend on keeping me here forever?

"That's entirely up to you," Sebastian said, leaning forward. I got the impression that this, whatever it was, was what he had been leading up to. "I know you hate it here, you've made that clear, and we both know you don't belong here."

"None of them do," I cut in.

Sebastian gave a slow nod. "It's not perfect, no. But you're not like them, Tasha, and you could never be happy here. You should be out in the real world. So, I'm going to make a deal with you. You tell me everything you know about the Enterprise, and I'll arrange for you to get safe transport off Sandor." He looked at me expectantly.

"What about the Enterprise?" I asked, at a loss.

"What is the Federation planning on doing next?"

"I have no idea," I answered honestly.

"Come on, Tasha. You were working with them and you've spent time on their ship before. You have to know what their plan was or something useful about the ship."

"I told you yesterday!" I snapped at him. "Or at least I think I did. I don't know what they're doing. They brought me here as a last resort, I don't even think there _was_ a plan past that."

"You're seriously saying that their last plan was to get you to ask us to negotiate?"

"I'm saying I don't know what their plan was. Captain Picard told me that this was a last resort. My guess is that they're going to try to send a supply ship through. You know more than me."

"So you don't know why the Enterprise mysteriously disappeared for a day, and then came back?"

I stared at him. "Sebastian, a few days ago I was working as a waitress. I spoke to Captain Picard about Sandor a grand total of once before we got here and barely more than that with Will. If they had any plan for attack or anything, they didn't tell me."

Now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure if the Enterprise had a plan. It was a last ditch effort to get me, but they had to have something else to fall back on. Will had said this was a dangerous situation for this sector so the Federation probably had a lot of people working on it. I was no military strategist, though, so I couldn't exactly predict anything. I couldn't imagine them actually attacking Sandorian ships but, if there were lives on the line, I knew Picard would do whatever he had to. Why hadn't Will mentioned what their next course of action would be?

I looked up to find Sebastian studying me in a very disturbing way.

"I've discussed this with Dominic," he started slowly. I tensed at the name. "He agrees that you know something. Tactical plans, strategies, weapons systems, something. Are you sure you don't want to just tell me?"

I shook my head, feeling the fear climbing out of the pit of my stomach to wash over me. "They didn't tell me _anything_. I talked to the Captain once. I spent a few ours in Engineering to get out of playing Parrises Squares. That's it."

"Hmmm. Listen to me, Tasha. We're going to win this conflict and when that happens, you want to be on our side. We could do a lot for you here if you decided to stay. I want you to think very carefully about that." He turned back to his computer. "You'll be returned to your quarters for the time being."

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

"I'm very busy, Tasha, I don't have time to discuss the wellbeing of every resident here. I'll make sure you receive a work schedule. You'll forgive me if I restrict training and shifting privileges for now." He pressed a button on his desk and the two guards entered a few seconds later. "Return Miss Lawrence to her quarters."

I leaned forward. "Sebastian, you can't leave me down there! You said yourself, I don't belong! I don't know a damn thing about the Enterprise and you know it!"

I felt my chair being pulled back and I stood up because I knew the alternative was being dragged. Sebastian didn't look away from his screen as I followed one of the guards out the door.

No one spoke as I was dropped off on my level and the guards disappeared back into the lift. I stood stunned for a moment, trying to figure out what had just happened. Sebastian was convinced that I knew something about the Federation's plans or about the Enterprise itself. As I made my slow way back to my quarters, I wracked my brain for anything that might have helped Sebastian. I had no intention of actually telling him anything but, even if I did, I wouldn't have known what to tell. The strategies of the Federation were beyond me and I had no idea how Picard thought. Will, maybe, but I didn't think I knew much about even him, not when it came to this at least. I knew the Enterprise was equipped with phasers and photon torpedos, but that had to be common knowledge. My one visit to Engineering had focused entirely on myself.

I sank into the couch when I made it back to my quarters. Keerthana was still gone and my tablet indicated that it was 0715, a little ways into breakfast. The tablet was programmed with mealtimes and also had a reminder of a town hall meeting the day after tomorrow. Everything about it seemed terrifyingly normal and permanent. And, from what Sebastian had said, I was going to be here a while.

I stood up with a groan and paced the room.

"Okay, Tasha, calm down," I told myself. "You've been in worse than this." I didn't think I actually had been, but it made me feel better to say it. So Sebastian was playing some sort of twisted game with me. The bastard… But I could deal. There were obviously ways out of here. All I had to do was get off the bracelet and to do that I had to talk to Otten. He had been in charge of the group at the training room so he had to know how to get them off. Unfortunately, he hadn't seemed too keen on helping me when I'd talked to him yesterday. I could change that, though.

Whatever my plans was, I had to do it quickly. Sebastian was currently busy with whatever was happening at the wormhole but he was obviously planning something for me and I was willing to bet that it wasn't good. At least here I had a chance of getting out. If he put me in that cell again, it was hopeless. What he would do with me after the conflict was resolved was anybody's guess. One thing I knew I couldn't count on was the Enterprise coming to save me. It was too big of a chance to take.

Grudgingly, I left the room and headed down the tan hallway. I was hungry, and that came first.

I found the dining hall after only a few minutes. The line was shorter than it had been when Otten and I and the other had gone for dinner the evening before. Breakfast lasted until 8:30 so I imagined that most people tried to sleep in. I couldn't imagine what there was to get up for because jobs like cooking or training didn't exactly motivate me to get an early start to the day. I wondered what Sebastian would do if I just refused to do whatever work they assigned me. Probably hand me over to Dominic. With a shiver I joined the line and soon received what looked to be the best breakfast I'd had in a while.

I settled down at the end of one of the tables and dug into the meal, feeling starved. I had only taken a few bites when someone sat down across from me. I looked up to see a vaguely familiar man, someone I'd met yesterday but whose name I couldn't place. He had short hair, like all the men here, and it was brown with the faintest hints of gray. He had a longish face, making it hard to place his age but I guessed that he was around forty.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked as he arranged his silverware.

"Nope," I told him. Something in my face must have given me away because he volunteered:

"Benedict Cort. Everyone calls me Cort."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm having trouble keeping everyone straight."

"It's confusing at first. You'll get used to it."

"That's what everyone keeps saying," I told him, thinking that it probably wasn't a good thing.

"You don't look like you're panicking yet, which is good. If you feel like you're on the edge, you should come find me."

"Edge of panic?" I asked, flummoxed.

Cort nodded. "Don't take it personally," he quickly added. "It's strange here, it's so much better than everywhere else but…somehow that makes it worse."

I leaned forward. "What's so bad about it?"

"When I first got here, I spent two weeks walking around and expecting them to drop something on me. It seemed too good to be true."

I gaped at him. "You can't be serious."

"Everyone else went through the same thing. It's like they can't believe they're not going to be sent back."

"Cort, you're still locked up here! It's better than where you were, but it's still a prison."

Cort shook his head. "It's better in here than out there."

Something clicked in my head as I stared across the table at court, my fork left forgotten in my hand.

"You don't want to leave."

"Leave? No. It's hell out there for us. What could we have out there that we don't have in here, anyway?"

"I…Cort, there's…You're locked up!"

Cort shook his head again, looking at me with what might have been pity. "It's an opportunity for a real life. Just give it a chance." He stood up. "I have work in a few minutes. Good luck, though. You'll come around soon." He gave me a reassuring smile and walked down between the two tables with me staring after him.


End file.
